As soon as it was dark, Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett stopped snogging in his Uncle Bilius's charmed Ford Anglia with the burnt out Invisibility Booster and flew the car back to its overgrown garden. Old Bilius Weasley had been out at black cat bridge league for the night so he wasn't there to notice his favourite nephew loading an armful of girl's clothing into the Make-Dry chamber in the scullery. After a cup of tea, and some tidying of Molly's hair, the pair of them stepped through the Floo hoping to sneak quietly back into school.

But that was before they knew to expect Alastor Moody.

Before the green flash of the Hogwarts Floo cleared to show who was arriving, Alastor had grabbed Arthur by the throat and rammed his back against the mantle piece.

"Where is she?" Alastor growled into his face.

With the large, meaty hand on his throat, Arthur was at a loss for words.

But Sharlene McKinnon was there too, rushing forward to call Alastor off. "No, he's okay. That's Arthur, Molly's – boyfriend."

"Exactly, the rotten Slytherin who's probably up and kidnapped her, like you said," Alastor nodded, still forcing Arthur hard against the fireplace.

Sharlene cringed. "No, the Slytherin is – her other boyfriend. This one is harmless."

Arthur gasped as Alastor unhanded him. "The Slytherin? What are you — " He shook his head. "No, Molly's safe and she's right behind me. If you'd let me move out of the Floo, she'd have got through already."

Arthur made sure to stagger out of Alastor's reach before he demanded. "Who in bloody hell is this, McKinnon?"

"An auror," she blurted. "This is Alastor Moody, an auror friend of mine who's come to help us find Molly."

"Bloody brilliant," Arthur said, rubbing his throat.

Then just as he said she would, Molly flamed into the room. He turned to take her hand but Sharlene had already grabbed at her. "Molly! You're safe!"

"Well, yes," Molly said, bewildered but returning the hug, looking wide-eyed and questioningly at Arthur over Sharlene's shoulder. At the sight of Alastor, Molly startled. He did not fail to notice, narrowing his darting eyes.

Sharlene stood back. "After they found your wand but no sign of you, I was thinking the worst. We all were. So I went to Alastor. He's less rash than your brothers would have been."

Arthur gave a scoff that turned into a cough.

"Oh, pull yourself together," Alastor growled at him. "All I did was hold you still. You would have got much worse than that if McKinnon had brought in the Prewett brothers to deal with you instead."

Arthur scoffed again. "Deal with me?"

Molly hopped between them, quieting Arthur with a hand laid on his arm. "My wand?" she asked Sharlene. "You say my wand has turned up?"

Alastor grunted. "Yes, anonymously sneaked under Professor Slughorn's door sometime during dinner hour. The wood was wet, as if it had been left outside. And from the angle of return, the perpetrator was probably right-handed."

"Shocking," Arthur muttered.

Molly elbowed him in the stomach.

"McGonagall's got the wand now," Sharlene rushed to say before Alastor could engage Arthur again.

"Thank the stars," Molly said, pushing past her.

Sharlene bobbed to block her path. "Wait a minute, Molly. How did you come to lose it in the first place? And where have you been all this time? It's not like you to be out of school without proper leave."

Molly met Arthur's look again, and an understanding passed between them. They had already decided to keep the events of the evening vague. The full story could bring about trouble for Bilius Weasley. Arthur swore that charming a Muggle car wasn't strictly illegal but – it was best not to have to explain it to the ministry. And beyond having the car, Arthur had driven it with a glitching Invisibility Booster, flashing it in and out of view, risking violating the Statute of Secrecy.

Instead of the whole story, Molly gave a thin laugh. "How does anyone lose anything? Arthur and I were on a date and I must have dropped it outside somewhere. By the time I noticed, we were away from the school."

"Away, but where exactly?" Alastor said. "And why? Just the two of you, or did you rendez-vous with someone else?"

"What, you mean like my old Uncle Bilius?" Arthur answered, forcing his voice to sound just as gruff. "We were at his house."

"Having tea, were ya?"

"Yes, actually," Arthur said. "If you hurry back there, you might find the kettle still warm."

Alastor spun on his heel, stone dust grinding beneath it, ignoring Arthur's bluff and whirling about to face Molly. "Can this Uncle vouch for you?"

"Now hold on. What's with the rough interrogation, anyways?" Arthur said, tugging Molly to his side.

She was speaking to Sharlene. "Honestly, Sharlene, there's no need for all this. I'm fine and Arthur's done nothing wrong."

"She may be right," Sharlene said, one hand on Alastor's arm. "You don't have to do an official questioning, Alastor. You're not on duty. And you've done so much to help already."

He grunted, skeptical, looking over Arthur one more time as Sharlene led Alastor toward the stairs. "Let's see if the sky has cleared up enough to divine anything from the stars on the matter," she was saying.

Molly watched them go, frowning, shaking her head. Sly Sharlene getting herself alone with the ministry's maddest young Auror up in the Astronomy Tower. Sure, technically she was of age but…

Arthur was no longer concerned about Alastor Moody or Sharlene McKinnon. He took Molly by the shoulders. "Right. So we retrieve your wand from McGonagall and then hunt down Malfoy?"

She scoffed. "He'll be hiding in the dungeons by now. And may he stay there."

Arthur stepped closer, resting his chin on her head. "Hidden, yeah? You know, I have reason to believe Potter and the lads might have access to the dungeons. And they owe me after that nonsense with my wand that kept you waiting needlessly in the rain."

Molly clucked her tongue. "You're not saying you didn't enjoy our rainy evening, are you?"

Arthur gave a low laugh, swaying as he held her close. "There is no one I'd rather be soaking wet with than you."

She giggled against his chest, knowing she was foolish and not caring. She looked up at him. "But really, what can Potter do?"

"Don't ask," he said. " And don't say anything about it. Leave the dungeons to me. You go see McGonagall. Alright?"

"But how – "

He stamped a loud, sweet kiss on her lips and strode toward the stairs, rising away from her two at a time.


Minerva McGonagall pushed Molly Prewett's wand across her desk toward its rightful owner. Molly tried not to snatch at it too fiercely but her relief was clear. Lost wands were every day crises at Hogwarts, especially in McGonagall's house, but this was no ordinary case.

Lucius Malfoy had been the one to return Molly's wand. The teachers had kept the information from the young and very keen Auror who Sharlene McKinnon had called in off duty, but McGongall and Slughorn both knew who had left it. And now here was Molly, back and claiming to have been on a date with Arthur Weasley all evening.

McGonagall sat back in her chair, lifting her teacup to her prim lips. This girl in front of her was poor Will and Evvy Prewett's only daughter. Of course, Muriel was a brick and always did her best for her brother's children. And Molly was a good girl. But who did she have to turn to when boys were tugging her in opposite directions like this? Especially now that those boys were legally fully grown men, and one of them was slipping into a dangerous and despicable political movement?

She began with a sigh. "Miss Prewett, dear, would you describe yourself as family oriented?"

Molly pocketed her wand. "I suppose I would, Professor."

McGonagall nodded. "You would like to raise children of your own?"

Molly answered with a ready nod. "I would." Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to tell McGonagall about her dreams of little Bill and Ginny.

McGonagall sipped her tea. "That is a good ambition indeed. A family can be a great source of strength and stability. Not to mention happiness." She set down her cup and leaned across her desk. "Contrarywise, if chosen too quickly, too rashly, family ties can bring sadness."

Molly blinked, her pale ginger brows bending toward each other. "Sadness?"

McGonagall sighed. "Forming ties is always a risk. Choosing well takes time and clarity. We are past the days when a witch needs a wizard to be safe and happy in this world. At your age, there is no need to rush into serious relationships out of loneliness or – " she faltered, smoothing her skirts, " – or out of fear in a tumultuous world."

Molly didn't know how to respond, her eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

McGonagall went on. "Frankly, an ugly, dangerous road is opening before Lucius Malfoy. I fear for him and for whoever ends up walking it with him."

Molly shrunk in her chair, still silent.

"And as for Arthur Weasley," McGonagall said, "he has always been an earnest and lovely boy. He is kindness and safety, but there is more to choosing a road to walk in life than that. We musn't settle for something simply because it's easy."

Molly was smaller than ever, watching her own feet under the desk. They hadn't been able to get all the dampness out of her shoes and she was beginning to feel the chill of it.

McGonagall was finishing up, taking her teacup in hand again. "All I am saying, my dear girl, is that a road of your own making may be the best one to walk for now. I have every confidence you have the power to find such a road, until you're ready to merge your road with someone else's."

Molly swallowed past her dry throat. "Thank you, professor."


Desperately glad to be dismissed, Molly rushed out of the office. She moved with none of her usual flouncing, but with a tense, clipped pace taking her toward the stairs. She had climbed only one step when Lucius caught her, looming silently out of the shadows of the firelit stairwell, his fingers closing hard around her wrist, like a manacle.

She nearly screamed. He looked so angry she supposed Arthur and the lads must have had their revenge on him for abandoning her wandless in the rain already. But that wasn't it. His anger wasn't hot, like that of someone forced into in a prank war with Potter. His anger was cold, frightening.

"Don't you dare touch me, after what you did," she hissed at him, trying to recoil but finding her arm held stone still in his grip.

"I saw you," was all Lucius said in return, his tone low and eerily even.

She twisted her wrist in his fingers. "Get off me, Malfoy."

One corner of his mouth twitched, fighting to maintain his icy composure as he told her, "I came back for you. Of course I did. I risked more than you know to apparate out of my father's drawing room right before his eyes, defying him and coming back for you."

She scoffed. "You did not."

"I did," he said, a faint trace of hurt in his tone, in his face.

She shook her head, resisting the pull of it. "Even if you did, you can't expect me to stand out there in the mud, freezing like a cow in a pasture without the sense to get out of the rain," she said, her own anger flaring the more she spoke of it.

"I was back before half an hour had passed. And you were gone," he said. "I was gutted, frantic, searching everywhere."

She had to shake her head again, twisting harder against his grip. "With two wands to choose from, you must have been keeping nice and dry under an umbrella spell or two."

He jerked her close. "I saw you with him. With Weasley inside some crude Muggle machine, steam dripping down its glass."

"You didn't see much then," she said, her free hand pushing against his chest.

He only came closer, his mouth against her ear, speaking with just his breath, snake-like. "I could see that you were underneath him, face to face, your skin bared."

"Just the skin of my arms and shoulders after my jumper got soaked," she said, gasping as she struggled. "Not that I owe any kind of an explanation to you. And it's not like you've never seen Arthur Weasley kiss me before. It's no secret. Now let me go, or so help me – "

Lucius gave a bitter laugh. "What will you do? Get yourself disarmed again the moment after I returned your wand?"

"What do you want?" she said, crushed so tightly to him she could hardly draw breath. "I don't understand what you want from me, Lucius. We are not together. We never really were."

"You're not with him either," he said. "It's vile. You don't even like him. You can't. He's nothing but a shield and a safety net to you. And it must stop. Promise me."

"No," she said, her voice cracking, eyes tearing.

Lucius gave a cruel laugh. "What? Are you telling me you're in love with him then? With Weasel-Bee? That raggedy, clown of a Muggle-loving blood traitor?"

In the next instant, Lucius's arms and fingers went rigid, his voice went silent, and he was falling backward onto the floor at the bottom of the stairs, like a tree hewn down. Caught in his petrified arms, Molly fell on top of him.

Before she could wriggle free, Sharlene and Alastor had run to her side. Alastor was patting Sharlene on the shoulder, congratulating her on her reflexes in getting the wordless spell off.

"You did this, Sharlene?" Molly said.

"Sure did," Alastor beamed, proud of his protege. "Next time try to add a little something to keep the one you're rescuing from taking a tumble." He nodded at Molly, nudging Lucius with the toe of his boot. "What do you want us to do with this boyfriend, Miss Prewett?"

Molly sighed. "This one is not my boyfriend. But let's make sure he doesn't have a concussion anyway."

"Right. To the hospital wing," Alastor said, levitating Lucius with a flick of his wand. "You'd better come do the explaining, McKinnon."

"Thank you," Molly called after them.

Sharlene spun around to walk backwards, waving and still blushing from Alastor's compliment.


The Gryffindor common room was warm, firelit, and crowded when Molly arrived.

Angelo and Kingsley waved her over as soon as she arrived, relieved to see her back. She walked past the table where they sat over a chess board, slugging each of them on the back and assuring them news of her disappearance had been greatly exaggerated.

Angelo smirked. "More like our Sharlene was a bit too keen for an excuse to have Moody come 'round."

Maybe he'd been watching her when she came in, but when Molly looked for Arthur now, his back was to her as he listened intently to Reg and Mary telling a story together. She paused, watching the back of his head as he nodded at his friends. Kingsley and Angelo were back at their game. Potter and the lads were whispering furiously over a large sheet of parchment by the far window. No one would even notice if she were to curl up in Arthur's lap like a lazy little cat and fall asleep.

She stole up behind him, and without asking, dropped herself into the small space between Arthur's side and the arm of the sofa.

"Molly," Mary said, the warmest greeting she'd ever given her.

Arthur had turned to watch Molly settle her head against his arm.

"Hi, Mary. Don't let me interrupt," Molly said. "I'm just going to close my eyes here for a moment."

Arthur was shifting, making room for her, bringing her into his space.

"No, don't mind me, Weasley," Molly said. "Carry on."

He smoothed his cheek against her hair and slipped an arm around her all the same. "The lads say they can get into the dungeons and fill Malfoy's shampoo bottle with a kind of green dye Muggles use to colour their sweets. Lily Evans has some. It will stain his hair green and he'll never suspect it's Muggle goods and will spend hours, maybe days trying to reverse a spell that isn't there. How do you like that?"

"It's brilliant," Molly said, nestling her face into his biceps. All the training drills she'd been putting him through in quidditch practice had paid off nicely. "But Sharlene rang Malfoy's head off the floor when she petrified him downstairs just now and sent him to the Hospital Wing. So maybe not tonight."

"You don't say," Arthur said. "Moody egged her on?"

"Something like that," Molly said with a little shudder. She would tell Arthur what happened between herself and Lucius on the stairs, but not right now. She was knackered and didn't want to disturb the cozy sweetness she'd found here in Gryffindor House with her mates, and with him.

"Oi, Potter," Arthur called across the room. "Stand down. Operation greensleeves is postponed until further notice."

A chorus of groans went up from the lads, followed by some very noisy folding of their parchment.

Molly wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but she woke up before morning still on the sofa in the glow of the last embers of the common room fire. The room was empty except for Arthur and herself. He had sunk onto his back on the sofa, his legs too long to stretch out, his knee bent over the edge and his foot on the floor. She was lying on her front, half on the edge of the cushions, half on top of him, his arm still around her.

Teetering on the edge of the sofa, she propped herself on her elbow, studying his face in the low, orange light. She'd never seen him asleep. His expression was much like it was when he was awake, every bit as peaceful and serene. There was an honesty in that which set her heart beating steadily faster.

McGonagall had meant well with her speech on not settling for safety just because the world was scary and kindness was easy. But as he slept next to her, Arthur didn't seem like something settled for, but something aspired to.

As he slept beside her for the first time, Molly traced his jawline with her finger. The movement stirred him, and he took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and tightened his arm around her without waking up. She combed her fingers through the hair over his ear. He mumbled something and rolled toward her, his body pushing hers back onto the sofa, coming toward her comfortable and sure, as if they slept entwined like this all the time.

She smiled as she held him more tightly against herself. Everyone kept saying Arthur was so safe, but she didn't feel particularly safe at that moment. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her hands moving slowly up and down, like a wave cresting and ebbing over his back. The pressure in her hands grew more urgent as she touched him. Arthur's muttering formed into something more like a moan, rumbling in his throat against her face. Her lips tingled, urging her to kiss him awake.

No, this was not safe. It hadn't just been desperate gratitude at his rescue that had made her wonder, there on the front seat of the car, if there was anything she wouldn't let Arthur Weasley do to her. It wasn't based on a reckless, rebellious thrill, like it had been with Lucius Malfoy either. And even with Malfoy, before he ever got too far with her, she had always made him stop. But Arthur – it was different with him. She didn't want Arthur for comfort, or for protection. She wanted him. In the passionate, craving way no one believed she could, she wanted Arthur Weasley for herself.

He was blinking in the light now, smiling sleepily at her. "We should go to bed," he said.

"What?" she squeaked.

"To our own beds. Separately," he said, laughing softly into her face.

"Right," she said, a little breathlessly.

With two fingers, he lifted her chin and kissed her. She reacted too readily, her voice in her throat, her hands clutching at his shoulder blades. Arthur rolled further into the back of the sofa, tipping her on top of himself. With the shift in position, she was positively devouring him from above. He kept pace with her, holding onto her waist, his long fingers almost meeting at her spine.

She broke the kiss to speak, her face still pressed to his, breaths rough and quick. "We need to say goodnight now," she said. "But those seven destinies of ours – in time, I think I'll want them all."