A/N: Happy Saturday!

I hope y'all stay safe from these upcoming tropical storms!

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Next chapter…Arthur's birthday!

Uncertain Outcomes: Part 3

Of course, Gran and the son who had spent the night with her the previous night were the first to arrive the next morning. Then Arthur's other aunts and uncles trickled in. Gramps's brothers and sisters-in-law were next. Neil strode in carrying a large, ancient tome, which, from the binding, contained information on every known Dark wizard and all curses created from the 11th century through the 15th century. Molly, Alexander, Margaret, Elaine, and Paulene arrived a bit later than usual, laden down with paper bags because they met up and went in together to buy a massive breakfast spread (today, the Healer was supposed to lift the magically-induced coma Gramps was in, but it could still be another day or two before he woke up; with that and it being a Saturday, there was no telling how many relatives would show up and when). Desmond arrived with his and Ian's daughters not long after breakfast came in, not having anyone to babysit since both of their wives were at the hospital along with everyone else; the girls were easily occupied for a while by their children's crosswords, word searches, and coloring books. Trenton, however, was still passed out, a new charm over him to cover the odor of alcohol but not one to muffle any noise.

Arthur strained to hear his brothers over the other voices in the room as Neil passed the tome off to Alexander.

"Sorry, it took a couple days to get approved," Neil said.

"No problem," Alexander assured. "I would have gotten it myself, but I've not had time to go by the Ministry this week."

"What d'ya need it for anyway?"

"Just some research," Alexander said with a wave.

"You got a tough case?"

"It's…perplexing."

"Are you able to talk about it?" Neil asked, intrigued. Sometimes Alexander talked about cases he had, without disclosing too much information or the patient's name of course. What Healer or Auror didn't? But Arthur knew he wouldn't say anything this time – It would be too obvious..

"Just that we've not seen anything like it before."

"It's not something from the Dark wizards who are still loose, is it?"

"No, it's nothing to worry about anymore."

"Ah, from the war then?"

Alexander tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow as way of affirmation. It was obvious to Arthur that he made a deliberate effort not to look in his direction, but it was difficult to tell if Neil noticed since he, Arthur, didn't have a full view of his face.

"Anyone we know?"

Rubbing behind his left ear, Alexander said, "You know I can't tell you that."

Neil did notice this. Whenever Alexander rubbed behind his left ear, he was either anxious or keeping something from them. With knit brows and narrowed eyes, Neil asked, "Who is it?"

Apparently realizing his mistake, Alexander crossed his arms and firmly tucked his hands beneath them. "I didn't say we knew him." His eyes flicked to Arthur when he said this.

"Him?" Neil said slowly before following where Alexander's eyes had darted. Arthur pretended he had been watching the women unpack breakfast instead of watching them. He should have known it would only be a matter of time before someone figured it out, especially with how much time the family had been spending together in close proximity the past several days. "Arthur, c'mere!"

Not a second after he joined them, Neil pointed at the book in Alexander's lap and asked, "Do you know what this is about?"

Reading the cover upside down, Arthur said, "Dark Wizards, Cursed Objects, and Curses: 1001-1500 – That's more Alexander's department than mine."

"Do you know what he's doing with it?" Neil rephrased impatiently.

Arthur shrugged. "No. Should I?" Of course, he hated lying to his brothers, but this didn't feel quite like a lie. He suspected Alexander was using it for research on his case, but he didn't know for sure.

Neil peered at him for several long seconds. Arthur kept a straight, blank face. When Neil's gaze fell to the scars on his neck, he unconsciously reached up and rubbed at them.

"Why do you do that?" Neil asked suddenly.

"What?" Arthur swallowed hard. His heart beat faster.

Neil nodded to the hand on Arthur's neck and mimicked the action.

Hastily removing his hand, Arthur abruptly looked away, his cheeks burning. "It makes me uncomfortable when people stare," he said, effectively putting an end to the conversation and his younger brother's questioning.

Arthur went back to his corner. As soon as Molly took her seat beside him, he told her what he'd told Charlie the night before. If he waited, he would've reasoned himself out of telling her. This, indeed, did relieve her worries, although she was still concerned. She asked him if he needed to go to a meeting, but he refused, saying he didn't want to leave on such an important day and that these cravings might ease up once things got better.

"Did you at least get any sleep last night?' she asked, eyeing the piles of paperwork spread around him. His appearance should have been answer enough.

He scratched the back of his head. "Er – No – Don't give me that look."

"You get less sleep each night you're here. You need to come home tonight. And if you are that afraid you'll drink if you leave, then I'll just tie you to the bed," she teased.

A mischievous smirk appeared on his face, and he waggled his eyebrows. "Really now?"

Rolling her eyes, she playfully slapped his arm. "Get your head out of the gutter."

"Pardon me. It's more difficult than you might think, seeing you every day" – he leaned in close – "and not being able to do a damn thing about it," he growled into her ear before nipping it, sending an excited shiver down her spine and blood rushing to her cheeks. He let out a soft chuckle. "Not so easy, now is it?"

Molly cleared her throat. "Well, that's because someone refuses to come home."

"We don't need a bed and we both know you're not afraid of the men's room."

"I am not –" she exclaimed, too indignant to finish the sentence. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

He held his hands up in defense. "Alright, calm down. I'm only joking." He then added under his breath, "We were great at finding nooks and crannies all over Hogwarts."

"Well, we aren't at Hogwarts anymore, are we? Besides, you need your rest more than anything."

"The only reason I didn't sleep last night was because Trent showed up." He jerked his head in the direction of his still-sleeping brother.

"Has no one seen him since the other night?"

"He's been at work, according to Neil and Ian."

"Did you two work things out?"

"No. He couldn't even form sentences."

Little Louisa wandered over then, her pigtails bouncing with every step. "Uncle Artie, can you open this for me?" she asked, holding out a juice box.

He smiled at her. "Yes, but what do you say?"

"Oh – Please?" She smiled ear to ear.

He chuckled. "I was going for a 'good morning,' but 'please' is nice, too."

"Good morning!" She batted her long lashes at him before turning to Molly. "Good morning, Aunt Molly!"

They both told her "Good morning" as well then Arthur took the juice box from her.

"Did your mummy and daddy say you can have this now?" he asked, looking over at Paulene and Desmond, who were busy making plates for the girls.

Louisa nodded vigorously. Her pigtails flew in all directions.

Wanting to make sure, Arthur called over to Desmond and asked. Desmond said she was allowed it and thanked him for opening it for her. Arthur was a bit surprised his youngest brother hadn't said anything to him about the girls since his outburst the other night. He actually didn't seem that upset with him at all. Perhaps Desmond's resentments had been redirected at yet another brother, most likely Trenton. None of Arthur's brothers were too happy with Trenton after his recent behavior, actually.

After poking the straw into the juice box, Arthur handed it back to his niece. She began to ramble on about how much fun she had getting to stay with her Uncle Ian and Aunt Elaine earlier in the week even though Penelope and Marie played together most of the time.

Trenton stirred a few feet away and groaned.

Arthur prepared himself to cover Louisa's ears. He was right to do so because that's what he had to do a few seconds later when a whiny "Fucking hell!" came from his older brother.

"Uh – Trent, you have nieces present," Arthur alerted him, hands still firmly placed on either side of Louisa's head. She looked between them cluelessly with big, brown eyes she'd inherited from her father.

"Oh, sorry," Trenton mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his head.

Satisfied Trenton wasn't going to say anything else inappropriate, Arthur removed his hands. Paulene called Louisa back to their seats for breakfast.

Trenton flinched when he went to rest his chin on his hand.

"You hit the floor with your face last night," Arthur informed.

Trenton groaned again.

Meanwhile, Molly rummaged through her handbag. She pulled out a vial of Hangover Potion and gave it to Trenton, who gratefully downed it in one. Arthur picked up the vial of Sober-Up Potion that was sticking out of her bag. While Trenton was grateful, Arthur was hurt by this, not because he wanted his brother to suffer, but because his wife still felt the need to carry those potions around, like she didn't trust him or have faith in him even though she kept telling him she did.

How he felt must have been written on his face plain as day because when she turned back to him, she said, "Oh, love, I'm sorry. I carry those around just in case. It – It just makes me feel better to have them." She cupped his prickly cheek, but his gaze lingered on the purple potion in his hand. "Please don't take it the wrong way."

He forced a tight smile and put the vial back. "Of course not." Molly had a slew of good reasons for carrying those potions around, he supposed. After how many times he failed, he couldn't blame her for keeping those on hand. It still didn't hurt any less, though.

"Why don't I get us some breakfast?" she suggested brightly, kissing his cheek as she stood.

A minute later, Trenton took Molly's seat next to Arthur.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't mean anything I said," Trenton apologized, staring at his hands while picking at the skin around his fingernails.

"You must have meant some of it. Otherwise you wouldn't have said it."

"No, Arthur, I didn't. I was upset and angry and in an altogether bad mood. You were the first person I saw, so I took it out on you. Although, it didn't help that you had me pinned to the wall," he added under his breath.

The tips of Arthur's ears burned with embarrassment. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"I'm gonna be frank here," Trenton said before choosing his words carefully. "Recently, out of the six of us, your behavior has been most reminiscent of Septimus's." He finally looked his younger brother in the eye. "But you are still nothing like him. I don't think anyone could be like him. And I shouldn't have said anything about your separation. I know how terrible you feel about all of that.

"By attacking you and tearing you down I was trying to take the attention off myself, especially when Neil said this was my fault. I've never taken anything seriously in my life – hell, I didn't even take my marriage or my kids seriously – so this is just something else that happened because I failed to take responsibility…only, this time, it could kill someone," Trenton finished quietly.

"It's my fault Gramps is in here. None of us would've been out there in the first place if I hadn't gotten drunk."

"How about this? We'll share the blame."

Arthur snorted. "Alright."

Neither said anything else for a short while, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Guilt burned in Arthur's stomach. While Trenton did play a part in the events that led to Gramps being in St. Mungo's, Arthur couldn't let him take an ounce of the blame. This was ultimately on him. Gran still didn't know what happened, in the waiting room or on Halloween (when Trenton abruptly left and didn't come back, they told her he was called away on a major case with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad). Merlin, Arthur still hadn't figured out how he was going to tell her it was his fault; he'd been stewing on it for days. What would she and Gramps say? They were very forgiving people, but to what extent?

Trenton's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "I know Gran and Gramps did everything they could for us," he said softly. "I wasn't thinking clearly and what she said felt like too little too late at the moment – And you were kind of right about something else." He returned his attention to his hands and took a deep breath. "Since I lost Kat, I usually just go home after work and open a bottle. I only go to the bar or pub on weekends, and Neil only goes with me once a week. The house is so quiet and empty without her and with all the kids grown…Sometimes I go to Gran and Gramps's for dinner, as you know, but I'm not sure how much it helps. I still go back to an empty house – well, when you were there, it was a little better, since you stay up later than they do. I could talk to you for a while, then go home and go to bed."

"I wish you'd said something sooner. I know Molly and I have been busy the past few years, but you know you're always welcome at the Burrow. Come by for dinner. Hang out. Even if I'm stuck with work or something, you can still come over and – I don't know – read a magazine or listen to the wireless or something – ya know, enjoy the company. I know Molly could use some when I'm late at the Ministry."

Trenton nodded. "Yeah – That sounds nice…Listen" – his and Arthur's blue eyes met again – "no more secrets, alright? Not between us."

"Yeah…No more secrets," Arthur echoed without much enthusiasm. The guilt from keeping such a major secret from his brothers, especially Trenton, continued to mount. Whether he had yet to tell them was for their benefit or his, it was still unclear. Since Alexander felt he should tell them, maybe it was more for his benefit. But what benefit would be gained? Perhaps his dishonesty and secrecy was more out of cowardice than anything else. What kind of Gryffindor was he, to be afraid to inform those who loved him of a potentially life-threatening affliction he'd gotten from fighting in a war?

In an attempt to ease his guilt by revealing another, yet not-so-serious, secret, Arthur cleared his throat and said, "Hey, Trent, I'd appreciate it if you don't drink around me. I'm – uh – having to get help for it. That's what the meeting was that Ian was talking about Monday. And you put me in a tough spot last night."

"Oh, okay, yeah. I didn't realize it was that big of a problem for you. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for pressuring you before. I got excited, thinking I had my old drinking buddy back because, let's face it, the past twenty-some-odd years, you've not been as much fun, only having two or three drinks max when you do go out. And Neil's great and all, but it's not the same as going out with you and Bilius back in the old days."

The conversation dissolved again. Molly returned with not two but three plates. She passed Arthur and Trenton each one before sitting on the other side of her husband.

The morning dragged on. More relatives came and went. A steady buzz of conversations filled the air. Trenton went home to clean up, but soon returned. Arthur put his work away while Alexander began to make his way through the ancient tome, reading glasses perched on his nose. Marie, Penelope, and Louisa grew bored with their activity books and ventured off to their various aunts and uncles in search of other entertainment. Gran had only been allowed in to see Gramps for a half hour before rejoining her family so the Healers could work.

Around lunchtime, Arthur's stomach rumbled. He went over to the tables in search of any food left over from breakfast. Most of it was gone – a few scraps of bacon, half a sausage, and three doughnuts remained. When he picked up a jam doughnut and was about to take a bite, Molly snatched it out of his hand. He looked at her with raised brows.

"I can't have a doughnut?" he asked.

"No, especially not one with jam; they're not good for you. The kids are bringing lunch in a while anyway."

This little exchange caught Neil's attention nearby.

Trenton walked past and plucked the doughnut from Molly's hand. "Seems like someone doesn't want you getting flabby again." He smirked and took a bite out of the doughnut. Some jam got caught in his well-groomed beard.

"You know what, Trent? You can take that doughnut and shove it," Arthur said good-naturedly.

"Don't you worry, I will – Shove it right into my mouth." Trenton took another bite before sauntering off. From his seat, Neil continued to pay more attention to Arthur and Molly than to what one of his sons was telling him.

Arthur reached for another doughnut, glazed this time. Molly swatted his and away.

"Can I really not have a doughnut? Come on, it's a doughnut. It's not like I'm eating six."

Molly arched an eyebrow.

Arthur held up a finger. "One time. One time, I ate six doughnuts. One's not going to hurt me," he argued.

"How much coffee have you had this week?"

Abashed, he ducked his head. "Too much probably," he said meekly.

Molly shot him a look that clearly said that was not an acceptable answer.

"Definitely too much," he corrected.

"If you hadn't drank so much coffee and had been sleeping well, I wouldn't have a problem with you eating a doughnut. You've done very well eating healthy the past few weeks."

"Exactly. So don't I deserve some sort of reprieve?"

"Oh, it's not like this is a punishment. You know what they told you; even though your lifestyle has been fine – well, except for that short stint last year," she said as an aside before clearing her throat. "Anyway, even though you lifestyle hasn't necessarily been unhealthy, taking care of yourself could help quite a bit – Oh, look, here are the kids." And she left Arthur standing there as she bustled to greet the new arrivals.

At this point, Neil made his move. "Well, if you're not going to, mind if I?" he asked as he approached.

"Help yourself," Arthur said with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Without preamble, Neil asked, "So what are you hiding form us?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're keeping something from us. I don't know what it is or if Alexander is in on it, but there's something you're not telling us."

"What if I am?"

"We don't keep big secrets from each other. I understand now why you couldn't tell us what happened when you nearly died a few years ago, but nothing is tying your hands anymore. What aren't you telling us?"

"You're not going to let this rest are you?"

"No, because I know something is wrong."

"Fine. If you must know" – he lowered his voice – "I have some heart problems. But it's nothing to worry about." He figured if he told a partial truth, Neil would be satisfied and some of the guilt would leave him.

"Heart problems," Neil repeated blankly.

Arthur gave a single nod.

"Can't the Healers do anything? It seems like an easy fix."

"It's not to the point where they need to do anything, so right now, we're taking preventative measures. If it became serious, then I would tell you all. There's just no need to worry anyone, so I'd appreciate it if this could stay between the two of us. No one else knows, not even Trent."

Neil thought on this for a long moment. Finally, he said, "Fine. As long as it's not life-threatening, I don't see what it could hurt."

The all-too-familiar pang of guilt hit Arthur again. Instead of relieving his guilt, the half-truth was adding to it. He began to reason with himself. He reminded himself it was none of his brothers' business anyway and he deserved some time to come to terms with his situation himself first. While they didn't keep big secrets from one another, it wasn't like any of them immediately told the others their big news anyway - Hell! No one knew Bilius had been hallucinating for two days or quit drinking until he claimed he saw the Grim. They all told him he was being ridiculous and had probably seen a big, black dog after a long night of drinking, but he assured them he quit drinking altogether. The next day, he died of a seizure.

Arthur had just sat down with Molly and their kids when the Healer came into the room and announced everything had gone smoothly and Gramps should wake up within a few hours; however, it could be as long as two days, but that chances of a full recovery would be slim if that were the case. After Gran spoke with the Healer privately, she gathered Arthur and his brothers to talk to them in the hall.

"He said the six of you are allowed to see your grandfather now," she informed them. "But don't say anything to your cousins; I don't want any hurt feelings – Desmond, Arthur, would you two like to go in first?"

Desmond nodded vigorously, but Arthur took a step back, accidentally bumping into the wall. For days, he wanted to see Gramps, but now that he had the opportunity, he couldn't bring himself to, knowing Gramps wouldn't look anything like himself; the man in that bed would be frail and helpless.

He gulped. "Someone else can go. I-I'll wait."

Once Gran sent Ian with Desmond and the others went back to the private waiting room, Gran grabbed Arthur's sleeve to stop him. With great reluctance, he faced her.

"I thought you'd be the first to want to see him, seeing as you're the only person who hasn't stepped foot outside of this hospital except when you absolutely had to."

"Can't I be the thoughtful older brother and let Ian and Neil see him first?"

"Of course you can, but that's not the real reason, is it?" When he didn't reply, she said, "It's just the two of us here. You don't have to put on a brave face for me."

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose, his lips pressed in a thin line, and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "I don't want to see him like that," he admitted softly, avoiding his grandmother's gaze.

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Okay. That's fine," she said with understanding. "But I would like you to do one thing for me: Go home and get some rest tonight. I hate seeing you this way."

After a brief hesitation, he shrugged and said, "We'll see."

"Sweetheart, I appreciate your dedication, but there's no need for you to stay here twenty-four seven. There is nothing anyone can do to help, and the Healer has lifted the visiting hours and said I can stay in his room with him overnight now."

"I'm doing this for me, Gran. It's better for me if I stay."

Gran did not question him further.

oOoOo

Two days passed – Two more long days of waiting – Two more days where absolutely nothing changed.

Late Monday night, the waiting room looked much the same as it had a week before. All of Arthur's brothers and uncles stayed the night. So did some of the wives. Molly wasn't there, however. After spending the weekend at St. Mungo's with him, Arthur convinced her once again to go home for a night. Gran was with Gramps.

As Arthur tried to fall asleep in the chair, which was uncomfortable despite the fact he'd renewed the Cushioning Charm he'd placed on it days before, he couldn't help ruminating over the fact that Gramps's chances of recovery were slim to none now. The longer he sat there, the more it felt like the walls were closing in on him. Finally, he got a cigarette from Trenton, who had been nodding off, and bolted.

oOoOo

First thing next morning, Molly found herself passing the familiar portraits hanging along the walls of St. Mungo's. Ever since Arthur shared with her his fears about drinking, she didn't want to leave him, even though he wouldn't be alone; plenty of Weasley relatives were hanging around the hospital. The last thing anyone needed was for Arthur to go off and start drinking again. She wasn't sure she could take it if that happened.

When she turned the corner and stepped over the threshold to the private waiting room, she immediately noticed Arthur missing from his corner. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Where's Arthur?" she asked Desmond, who was nearest her.

"I haven't seen him this morning," he quietly answered so as not to wake Paulene, who was still asleep with her head resting on his shoulder.

Ian yawned and stretched a few seats away. He looked around blearily. "'Morning, Molly. Arthur having a bit of a lie in today?" he mumbled groggily.

"He's not been home."

Ian's eyes shot open. In an instant, he was completely alert. "What do you mean? He left a few hours ago."

Molly's stomach plummeted. "He didn't come home," she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

Ian hopped up. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "I'm sure he's okay. Trent talked to him last. He might know where he went." He glanced around the room. "Where is Trent, Desmond?"

"Back with Gran and Gramps."

While they waited for Trenton to come out, Ian got Molly to sit down. Alexander and Margaret joined them, but Neil was still sleeping.

About ten minutes later, Trenton strode in. Despite the early hour and a handful of people still asleep, he announced loudly, "Gramps is awake, and he'll be in tip-top shape in no time!" The atmosphere lightened in an instant. Sighs of relief and broad grins broke out around the room.

Even though Molly was just as pleased by this as everyone else, she had something more important on her mind. She marched right up to her other brother-in-law. "Trent, did Arthur say where he was going last night?" she asked, her worry accidentally coming across as anger more than anything else.

A bit taken aback by this abruptness, he pulled his head back and furrowed his brow at the little spitfire who was Molly Weasley. "Ididn'tdoanything," he said so quickly it came out as a jumbled mess.

She blinked at him. "I didn't say you did. Arthur never came home last night. He talked to you before he left."

Visibly relaxing a little, Trenton scratched his temple. "Oh. He asked for a smoke, that's all. I fell asleep almost as soon as I handed it to him."

Her stomach in knots, she declined offers of help from her brothers-in-law and hurried out. She couldn't think of where Arthur might be. All the bars and pubs were closed this early in the morning and would have made him leave when they closed, unless he got a room. He could be in an alley somewhere. She doubted he went out in public to drink anyway; she was sure he wouldn't want to risk someone seeing him – But that's if he was thinking clearly, which he most likely wouldn't have been. Even though he never said he'd gotten rid of it, she didn't think he still had the flat. The kids would have told her if he ended up at one of their houses. There was only one other definite place he could have gone.

So, she stepped into the green flames with that destination in mind.

oOoOo

In his grandparents' basement, only a dim light shone from the end of his wand lying on the table before him as Arthur sat on an old, brown, leather sofa in the middle of the room, fixating on the bottle in his hands. The darkness that spread out in all directions created the illusion that the room did not stop at the house's foundation, but continued into an endless expanse. Neither space nor time existed in this windowless, subterranean chamber.

For what felt like the thousandth time, not just that night but over the past several days, Arthur mentally went over why he should and why he should not take that first drink. He came to the same conclusion every time: It wasn't worth it. But he desperately continued trying to convince himself otherwise.

Coming out of his paralytic state, he made a conscious effort to blink and unscrewed the bottle's cap. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping the scent of Firewhisky would force him to come to a different conclusion.

So consumed by his thoughts, the soft click of a door closing and footfalls on the stairs went unheard. A sudden light coming on from a lamp near the bottom of the stairs revealing the boundaries of the space also went unnoticed. The only thing that broke his trance was when a hand took the bottle from him, replaced the cap, and set it on the table.

His face crumpled when he looked up to see his wife standing before him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in the front of her dress, repeated apologies coming out in a muffled and garbled mess. She held him, her fingers moving soothingly through his hair. She bent over and placed her lips to the crown of his head, making soft shushing noises in an effort to comfort him.

After a short while, she gently pried his arms off her and slid down onto the sofa beside him. He furiously rubbed at his face, but stopped when she reached out with a finger and turned his chin toward her, his week-old beard prickly against her smooth skin.

She looked him in the eye. "Gramps woke up this morning. He's going to be okay," she stated firmly.

Arthur closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and made a noise somewhere between a strangled sob and a laugh. How close had he been to throwing everything away and it all have been for nothing?

"Is there anything you want to talk about? Is there anything we should talk about?" Molly prompted softly.

"No, it's just – everything." He shrugged. "It all got to me. I know I should have said something to someone, but – I don't know." He placed his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on his hand in consternation. "This has never happened before. I've never had to fight the urge to get drunk like this."

"I know." She rubbed his back. "It may have been a long time coming."

"But why? Why'd this have to happen to me? Why now, when I have everything to lose?"

She smiled sadly at him. "I don't know, love." After a moment, she confessed, "I still think if I'd done more when I first noticed you isolating yourself, all this could have been avoided."

He looked at her. "Don't do that. Don't blame yourself for my choices. You didn't force a bottle into my hands – No one forced me to do anything. You shouldn't have had to keep an eye on me in the first place. That responsibility never should have rested on your shoulders, but you've done it our entire marriage."

"I knew what I was signing up for. It's not like you hid anything from me. I remember when you told me about your family."

"We were only kids then," Arthur said dismissively.

"We were eighteen."

"Exactly! We didn't know anything. We were a couple of dumb kids who didn't think everything through," he said with more force than he intended.

Molly's face fell. "Are you saying you regret marrying me?" she asked in barely a whisper.

For a split second, Arthur froze, completely caught off guard by her question and at a loss for how she inferred that from what he said. "What? No." He shook his head. Shifting on the broken down cushions to better face her, he took her hands in his. "No, of course not. Molly, that's not what I meant. I – I thought – maybe – you regretted marrying me?" he stammered. "That you wished you'd listened to your parents?"

"I wouldn't trade one day with you for a thousand with anyone else." She ran a hand through his hair and let it rest on his neck. "And, no, we didn't think everything through, we didn't plan what to do if this happened, but that doesn't matter; it's just another bump in the road. We got married because we loved each other, and as long as that hasn't changed –"

"It hasn't."

"I didn't think so." Cupping his cheek, she said, "Nothing can make me regret marrying you, and I will never stop loving you, Arthur Weasley."

"How did I get so lucky to have such a remarkable woman as my wife?" he murmured.

"And all this time I thought I was the lucky one."

They shared a chaste kiss.

"Now, how does this sound?" Molly began, running her fingers through her husband's already mussed hair. "I think there's a meeting starting about now that you need to go to – And I can go with you and wait if you want."

"Please."

"Of course. After that, we'll get you home so you can get cleaned up – those sink showers are not as good as the real thing – and you can get some much-needed rest. Then tomorrow, we will go and see Gramps, hmm?"

"That sounds perfect, but I want to see Gramps today."

"Okay, but you are coming home afterwards," she told him.

Before leaving, Molly put the bottle of Firewhisky back in the liquor cabinet behind the wet bar.

When they reached Room 731 at the Ministry, the meeting had already begun. Instead of having Molly wait in the hall for an hour, Arthur told her she could wait in his office on Level Three and gave her directions. She found it easily enough and waited, impressed by the incredible improvement from his old office, which had been the size of a large broom cupboard. No one was in the department yet when she arrived, but a few trickled in while she waited. She chatted with Perkins a while before heading back to Level Seven in time for Arthur to come out.

Molly managed to convince him to go home to shower, shave, and change, saying it would probably be later that afternoon before he could see Gramps anyway.

A few hours later, Arthur stood before the door to his grandfather's hospital room with Molly holding his hand beside him. He knocked, then entered.

Gramps was sitting up in bed, propped against several pillows, and Gran was perched on the edge of the bed. Gramps didn't look as bad as Arthur expected; it was clear he'd lost a few pounds, but even though he was barrel-chested and built like a bull, he'd had a few pounds to spare, thanks to his appetite for Gran's cooking.

"Arthur!" Gramps beamed. Gran looked relieved to see him; now, whether that was because she knew he'd disappeared or because he looked better after having a proper shower and a shave was unclear.

Arthur didn't meet either of his grandparents' eyes. "Hi, Gramps. How're you feeling?"

"A bit sore, but no worse for wear."

"How much longer are they keeping you in here?"

"Oh, couple of days. But that's only to make sure everything is alright with my noggin. They're almost certain I'll make a full recovery."

"That's great." He gave a strained smile, still looking anywhere but directly at his grandparents. "Er – Gran, Gramps…there's something you should know about the roof."

"We already know, dear," Gran said. "Trent told us."

"W-What did he say?" Arthur's heart pounded in his chest. While he was dreading telling his grandparents the truth, he would much rather tell them himself than them hear it from someone else.

"He took full responsibility because he had been goofing off one night," Gramps answered.

"That –That's all he said?"

"That's the short version, but yes."

"That's not the whole story." He let go of Molly's hand and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "We never would've been out there if it wasn't for me."

"Trent didn't say anything about anyone else," Gran said.

"Well, I was there, too," he confessed, staring at the foot of the bed, "and it was ultimately my fault. I just – I didn't know until recently. I ended up getting drunk on Halloween – Trent didn't have anything to do with that, no one encouraged me," he added hastily about the drinking. "And not only because of that, but I said I'd help you fix it and never did. The truth is, Gramps, you're in here because of me. I'm sorry."

Silence fell over them, but it was only tense to Arthur. He continued to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.

This was what he'd been afraid of – He discovered the threshold of his grandparents' understanding and forgiveness. Perhaps that's why he hadn't seen Trenton since he'd returned to the hospital. Gran and Gramps didn't want to see Trenton and now they wouldn't want to see him either.

After what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was less than a minute, Arthur scratched his head and stammered. "I'll, um, I'll just – I'll just go now."

Before he even made it a step, Gran said, "Arthur."

But he didn't stop.

"Arthur," Gramps called after him. When Arthur still kept going, Gramps silently gestured to Molly to stop him.

Just as Arthur reached the door, Molly's hand slipped into his. He stopped and turned his head to see her looking up at him with pleading eyes. She squeezed his hand. After taking a deep breath, he let her lead him back into the room.

"Come here, sweetheart," Gran said, patting the bed.

Reluctantly, he obeyed.

Once he sat down on the end of the bed, Gran placed a hand on his knee. For a minute, he studied the baseboard in front of him with clenched teeth, then he looked up at Molly, wearing an expression that silently let her know how badly he needed her. She came closer and rested her hands on his shoulder, gently massaging it with her fingertips. Even though he gained some comfort from this, he was trembling just below the surface. Teeth still clenched, he stared at the hand on his knee with great apprehension, like it posed a threat to him, which had never been the case.

"We're not upset," Gran said.

"And we're not disappointed," Gramps added.

When Arthur still didn't make a move, Gran said, "You can look at us. We're not basilisks, you know."

For the first time since he'd entered the room, he looked directly at his grandparents. "How can you not hate me?"

"You're our grandson – more like a son, as you now know and have been recently reminded. Besides, the roof may have already been weak – it's an old barn, after all – and it's really my stubbornness that landed me in here. You're grandmother has been telling me for years I need to slow down – and you mentioned something along those lines a few months ago.

"We're going to tell you what we told your brother," Gramps continued. "Don't beat yourself up over this. This was no one's fault. No lasting harm was done – if anything, some sense got knocked into this old man – But we are proud that you came forward and told us what happened."

Arthur's built-up anxiety melted away. He still felt guilty, but having his grandparents tell him it wasn't his fault and that they didn't blame him made a huge impact.

Arthur and Molly visited a few more minutes before heading back to the Burrow. As soon as they got home, Arthur crawled straight into bed, completely and utterly exhausted, despite it only being three in the afternoon, and slept for a good twenty-odd hours.