This was written for Hogwarts, August Auction Day Four, Auction Three, and as Chaser 3 of the Caerphilly Catapults for Round 12 of QL
Prompts
Chaser 3 Prompt: You and your soulmate interact in dreams until your first meeting.
Day 4 Auction 3: [scenario] What if Arthur died at the Ministry in Order of the Phoenix?
1. [dialogue) "This isn't what I wanted."
6. [character] Ron Weasley
10. [object] pen/quill
WC: 1914
"No," she sobbed. "No, it's not true. You're pulling my leg. I just saw him two days ago! He's not really- he's not really gone."
The Healer beside her, Healer Moor, was trying to comfort her. It was obvious that she was trained in dealing with mourning relatives, because she never once looked uncomfortable as she murmured soothing words into the other witch's ear for a long while, letting Molly hold onto her and weep.
"I saw him just a couple days ago, leaving home for urgent business right after dinner," Molly muttered brokenly. "Every time he left for something like this, Healer Moore, I hugged him tightly. I didn't know if he would come back. I didn't know if it was the last time I would see him, if it was goodbye forever. Two nights ago, he refused to let me hug him. He kissed me on the cheek and told me he would come back, just like he had all those other nights. He said, 'Mollywobbles, you worry too much. Nothing will happen.' I remember it clear as day, him laughing and waving away my worries. I didn't just lose my children's father, Healer Moore, I lost my soulmate. I wish he could just appear in front of me, and tell me this was all an elaborate joke, but he won't, and I'm never-" Her voice cracked. "I'm never getting him back." She dissolved into sobs once more, unable to say anything further.
"I'm truly sorry for your loss, Mrs Weasley," Healer Moore murmured.
After a very long time, the newly widowed woman's grip on Healer Moor eased, and she sniffled once, then twice, before straightening her posture and regaining her composure. She looked up at the Healer, her eyes locking onto the other woman's. "I just need you to tell me one thing, Healer Moore," she said hoarsely, her voice trembling a bit. "Just one thing." She took a deep breath. "Did he suffer? Before he-" She swallowed. "Before he... died?"
"He died numb to the pain, Mrs Weasley. The venom in his veins settled quickly, and sometime during it, he fell unconscious."
"So he left peacefully?"
"Yes."
Molly smiled sadly. "That's good, I'm glad."
"Mrs Weasley, I assure you, had we gotten to treat your husband faster, we could have just saved him. But by the time he got here, the venom had already blended in with his blood. You have no idea how sorry we are that you and your family lost him. This isn't what I wanted, Molly. I hope you know that."
"I don't blame you or any other healer here, Healer Moore. I blame the ones who killed him."
She had been four years old when it started. Her mother, Cynthia Prewett, had just put her to bed, kissing her goodnight before leaving to wrangle Molly's younger twin brothers, Fabian and Gideon, to sleep. Molly had quietly listened to Cynthia when the woman had announced that it was time for her to sleep, knowing that her mother already had her hands full dealing with two two-year-old demons.
Molly rolled around on her bed, wanting to sleep but not knowing how. This was quite strange, because Molly usually slept like a… well, like a baby. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen that night.
It was beyond midnight when she finally closed her eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.
Molly opened her eyes and looked around. I must be dreaming, she thought. But it feels kind of real. She was standing in a bedroom, with blue and red walls, and a ceiling that reflected the sky above. In the corner of the room, there was a bed, shaped like a golden snitch. Posters were hung all around the room, some of magical things, some of Muggle ones. An old desk was sitting in the other corner, with many toys on top of it. Quidditch figurines were littering the plush carpet. A ginger-haired boy was sitting on the armchair next to a bookshelf filled with a few children's books, looking curiously at her.
"Hi," he said shyly. "I'm Arthur. What are you doing here?"
"I don't know."
"Who are you?"
"I'm Molly," she replied. "Am I dreaming?"
"I think you are," Arthur said wisely. It was a rule between adolescents that, if you knew someone else's name, they were your friend, and you would treat them like so. "I think I'm dreaming too!"
"Are you real?" Molly wondered. "Or are you a fig- figment of my imagination?"
"I think I'm real. Mother put me to bed ages ago, but I couldn't sleep, and then I closed my eyes, and I woke up in my room!"
"My mummy put me to bed ages ago too! I wanted to sleep, but my eyes weren't closing, and then I fell asleep and I woke up here! It was like beep, boom, sleep, then wake up, and bah! I'm in this room!"
They shared a laugh. "Are we friends now?" Arthur asked. "I wanna be your friend. Your hair is red like my walls, not orange like mine and my father's hair. I like the colour red."
"Yes, I really like my hair. And you're silly, of course we're friends!"
"Good. My mother would like you! She has the same hair as you!"
"Your mum sounds really nice!" Molly said. "I have an amazing mum too! And I have Fabian and Gideon who are my brothers and my aunt Muriel and I've never met my daddy, but Mummy says he's watching me from the afterlife with Merlin and Circe and Godric Gryffindor."
"That sounds so amazing! I wish I could meet Gryffindor and Merlin and Circe."
"I do too, they're so cool!"
They chatted for a while, talking about Molly's brothers, and how Molly loved them so.
Then, the lights in the room began to dim. "I think I'm starting to wake up already," Arthur winced.
"Will I see you again, Arty?" she asked anxiously. Tears were forming in her eyes at the thought of never seeing her new and only friend again.
"I really hope so, Molly!"
Molly did see him again. In fact, she saw him again the very next night! And every night after that, for many years.
Then, one night, a week before Molly would leave for her first year at Hogwarts, Arthur didn't appear in her dream. She had had quite a busy day, what with having gone to Diagon Alley to get her school supplies that very morning, and she was quite excited to tell him about a boy she had seen at Fortescue's, one that looked just like him. She had wanted to know if he had seen her too, or if she had just imagined it. He hadn't appeared the night after that, nor the following nights after those nights. In fact, he had been absent from her dreams for the whole week. She was quite upset.
She wondered why he didn't show. She kept wondering why, even as she boarded the Hogwarts Express on September first, dragging her large trunk behind her. She didn't stop thinking for a second as she made her way through the hallways full of students, nor did she stop when she sat down in an empty compartment. So it had been quite a surprise to be - quite rudely, in her opinion - pulled out of her thoughts by her compartment door being opened.
Molly looked up, annoyed, about to tell whoever it was to leave her alone, but as she got a good look at the person standing in the doorway of the compartment, all that disappeared, leaving her with her mouth hanging open.
"Molly?!" An astonished Arthur was standing there.
Molly finally regained her composure. Arthur looked the exact same as he did in her dreams, with the bright, messy head of orange hair, and the rectangle glasses, the same smile, the same blue eyes, shining with emotion. The only difference between Dream Arthur and the Arthur in front of her was that this Arthur wore a Hogwarts uniform, not those maroon quill pyjamas that were a bit too small for him.
"Arty!"
"No offence, Molly, but you're real?!"
"None taken, I was about to say the same thing," she giggled.
"I figured it out," Arthur declared, dropping a heavy-looking stack of tomes on Molly's table in the library. He grabbed a chair, spun it around, and sat on it swiftly.
"You're a drama queen," Molly chuckled, seeing his pleased face as he realised he had finally mastered the motion.
It was Saturday, which was Molly's favourite day, if only because, during previous years, they had had a break from classes, and a whole two days left to enjoy it. Plus, it was the perfect time to relax with her boyfriend, Arthur. This year, however, Saturday was just like any other day of the week - a day for studying. Being a seventh year student was really difficult.
"Didn't you hear me? I figured it out, Molly!"
Molly put down her quill, and abandoned her essay. It would not be easy to concentrate with Arthur there, because she always got lost in her conversations with him, "I heard you loud and clear! What did you figure out?"
"Why we were connected through dreams until the first time we met," he said, rolling his eyes like it was obvious.
"Oh, I've always wondered about that. I have many questions, least of which is why they stopped a week before we first met," she mused. "Well, why is it?"
"We're soulmates."
"What? No, that's absurd," she murmured.
"The last record of a soulmate bond like this was over a hundred years ago, Molly. They're incredibly rare. But I can prove it. I can prove our bond to you."
"How?" she asked.
"You see…"
"Mollywobbles, you worry too much," Arthur laughed quietly. "I'll be fine!"
"I don't like this, Arthur," she whispered. It was night-time, and everyone was sleeping, so they had to stay quiet.
"Dad?" They both looked up. Ronald was standing in the doorway of Grimmauld Place's kitchen, looking uncertainly at Arthur's.
"Ronnie, you should be in bed, it's well past midnight," Molly sniffled.
"I couldn't sleep," Ron replied. "Dad, are you going somewhere?"
"Yes, son, I have a mission," Arthur smiled.
"But dad, we have school!"
"I know, son, but I can't refuse a mission."
Ron suddenly straightened from the doorway and barrelled into Arthur. "Stay safe, dad," he muttered, hugging him tightly. Arthur held on, cherishing the moment. Ron sniffled a bit, letting go and walking out the door. He disappeared up the steps.
"They get their worries from you," Arthur chuckled.
"Oh, shush, you," Molly smiled.
She was sitting on her bed, looking through a photo album when Ginny and Ron walked into her bedroom. It was labelled 'My love'. Molly was crying silently, gazing at a picture from when Ginny had just been born, and the whole family was laughing and happy together.
They both sat on the bed, one on either side of her, and hugged her from both sides. They sat there, for a very long time, all three of them crying silently, remembering the jolly man that had been their life.
"What do we do now, mum?" Ron mumbled.
"We do what he would have wanted us to do, Ronnie," Molly whispered. "We remember him, and our happy moments together, and we stay happy."
Betas: HP Slash Luv
