Author's note: Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. You can tell I'm not her because #transrights
Warnings: Recovering from the war; loss of a child/sibling
The New Normal
They were sitting at the kitchen table working on the crossword at the back of The Prophet and nursing two cups of tea, which they'd done together for as long as Molly could remember. Arthur had been brave enough to speak to her for the first time at the Gryffindor table when he'd seen her struggling with 4 down ("Grindylow") over breakfast one day. He had hidden his proposal in a crossword he had made for her and even when their brood had been particularly young and loud and chaotic, they had found time and stolen moments to finish at least one puzzle a week.
"That one will be Hufflepuff," Molly said, pointing to number 7 across.
"She's the one who discovered the healing properties of dittany?" Arthur asked, surprised.
"It was well known to midwives and Healers before then, but she made Herbologists actually listen," Molly said.
"Interesting," Arthur said. "Good one, love."
Molly took a sip of her tea as he dipped his quill in the well of ink on the table. That was when the kitchen door burst open and the shouting really began as a herd of people ran into her house. She saw Ron, Harry, Ginny, and George first—Harry holding something wrapped in brown paper against him.
"Oye, where's Charlie?" Ron asked. "Where's Charlie?"
There was trampling down the stairs and Hermione appeared holding a book, followed closely by Percy. Both of them had their wands ready.
"What's happening?" she asked. "What's the shouting for?"
"Harry's new broomstick finally came in the mail!" Ginny said. Harry had refused to go to Diagon Alley since the war had ended—too many people, of course—but Molly had found him a copy of Quidditch Weekly and suggested that he at least get a broomstick back some time ago. The house had been buzzing with impatience as the Firebolt's Replacement came since.
"We're going to play a game right now," Ginny said.
"That's what merits shouting as if the sky's falling?" Hermione scoffed. "A broomstick?"
"It's Quidditch, Hermione," Ron said.
The back door opened and Bill and Fleur crossed through the living room to come into the kitchen. They'd been sitting in the garden earlier.
"What's going on?" Bill asked.
"Harry's new broomstick came in the mail," Percy said. "Apparently this warrants screaming."
"Hey, it means we can play Quidditch," Bill said with a grin.
Hermione sighed deeply.
"This fuss is all for Quidditch? There was less shouting during the war," Fleur said distastefully.
"Thank you," Hermione and Percy said from the stairwell.
"Fleur, I know things are different in France but Quidditch is war," George said.
"Yeah, except you're going to lose this time," Ginny taunted with the tone of voice that only a youngest child could use.
"And we actually want to be doing this," Harry muttered—which made those who heard his quiet slight laugh.
"We need Charlie though," Ginny reminded them.
"Well, where's Charlie at, then?" Ron asked.
"If I knew I wouldn't ask, Ronald!"
"Don't call me Ronald."
"Hermione does," Ginny taunted, which made her brother blush bright red.
"He said we could borrow his Snitch," Harry explained.
"He wasn't with us," Bill said.
"He's not upstairs either," Percy said.
"Oh, there's a Grindylow in the pond," Bill said. "He's absolutely trying to make friends with the Grindylow."
"Damn it," George said. "Okay, everybody out, go, go, go, go…"
In another flurry of motion, trampling, running, and jostling everyone had left the Burrow again. Bill had dragged Fleur along and Hermione and Percy had left their books on the stairwell, choosing to follow the boisterous action even as they rolled their eyes the entire time.
"Well," Arthur said, taking a sip of his tea. "I hope that nobody gets pushed off their broomsticks this time."
Molly smiled, which was an odd enough reaction to that statement that Arthur cocked his head to the side.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," Molly said. "I've just… I've been waiting for this moment for such a long time."
"Harry getting his new broomstick delivered?" Arthur asked.
"No," Molly said, clucking her tongue. "For them to… for them to be silly and playful again. For things to feel nearly normal."
Arthur softened at that, and looked back at the kitchen door that nobody had fully shut on their way out of the Burrow. There were shoe marks on the floor and someone had brushed up too close to the coat hooks and one of the many garments there had fallen to the floor. He reached out and took her hand.
"I think this is our new normal," Arthur said. He meant this strange paradox wherein their herd of trampling children, running amuck the property, was both larger than ever and somehow… somehow still incomplete, because Fred wasn't in their midst.
"I suppose it is," Molly agreed. Arthur's hand squeezed hers and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "They look happy."
"I think they are, today."
"I think they'll be happy every day, eventually," Molly said quietly. Arthur kissed the top of her greying curls.
"We will be too," he promised.
"I know," Molly said quietly, even if that wasn't always the case. She sat up again. "Shall we finish the crossword before they come trampling back in with fresh banter about who won and why?"
"I think our cause will be rather hopeless if we don't get it done before then," Arthur said. He patted her hand before letting go to pick up his quill again. "Now here's one you would know, love. A four letter acronym used in the taxonomy of healing herbs…"
WC: 934