Word Count: 637
Molly can't sleep, but that's okay. It's never too early to start the day. Besides, five o'clock in the morning isn't outrageous, even if it is a Saturday.
With a soft groan, she climbs to her feet, resting a hand on her swollen, pregnant belly. It's exactly why she can't sleep. Their little William has been awfully restless lately; it won't be much longer before he has joined them. "At least you let Mummy sleep a few hours," she murmurs, making her way downstairs to the Burrow's kitchen.
She doesn't really even think about. It's just something she does. When she's stressed, she bakes. When she's sleepless, she bakes. When she's happy, she bakes. As far as Molly is concerned, there's no situation that cannot be improved with a bit of baking
She hums to herself, carefully measuring and mixing each and every ingredient with narrowed eyes, ensuring absolute perfection. It's how her grandmother did it. She could have so easily used magic, but her grandmother always told her that there's something beautifully magical about doing some things by hand, and baking is one of those. Molly is inclined to agree.
As she pours the batter into the pan, she looks out the window. Rain softly pelts the grass. Good. They need a bit of rain. Her vegetable garden is thriving because of the magical fertilizer she added to the soil, but nothing can beat a nice, gentle shower to moisten the soil.
She sets the pan in the oven before summoning an umbrella and stepping outside. The rain continues to fall, and the scent of wet earth fills her lungs. A smile tugs at her lips.
Fabian and Gideon had expressed their doubts when they saw the Burrow. Molly isn't spoiled by any means, but she has never been one to find solace in simplicity. Now, she realizes how beautiful the world really is, how she doesn't need much to keep her happy. She has a loving husband, a wonderful family, a house in the countryside, and peace of mind. No amount of gold or material things could ever replace that. She is happier than she could have ever imagined.
Thunder rolls, and she sees lighting cut through the dark sky. That's her signal to head back inside. Rain may soothing, but thunder and lightning aren't. She thinks a nice cup of tea sounds nice. Maybe a bit of bread and cheese too. Then, of course, she will have cake.
…
By the time Molly has removed the cake from the oven and gotten the frosting to be the perfect shade of violet, she hears Arthur shuffling around upstairs. She smiles, her heart fluttering softly in her chest. It amazes her that just hearing him walk can make her feel so happy.
"You're up early, Mollywobbles. I- Oh!" Arthur's sentence ends in a cry as he seems to trip over his own feet and fall to the floor. "I'm fine! Don't worry, dear." He climbs to his feet, wincing, before Molly can move. His eyes widen when he sees the cake. "So that's what I smelled. Are we having cake for breakfast."
She smiles, chuckling softly as she begins to smooth the violet frosting over the cake. "Pregnancy cravings," she says with a shrug.
He moves beside her, kissing her cheek. "I'm certainly not complaining. Would you like some tea? Or anything at all?"
"I'm fine, Arthur, but thank you."
She knows how lucky she is. There are so many pureblood men out there who still view their wives as trophies, a shiny little trinkets to show off. But not Arthur. Her husband sees her as something amazing, as a partner, as an equal, and she loves him even more for that.
Smiling to herself, she cuts the first piece of the cake. "Breakfast is ready."