8 June 1998

Molly blinked slowly, opening her eyes, which felt raw and dry. It took her a moment to amass her surroundings; her head was spinning slightly. The sky outside her bedroom window was a cool, early-evening blue, which told Molly that she had somehow slept through breakfast and lunch. She glanced at the little tear-away calendar on her bedside table and realized with a small, painful twinge that it had been exactly a month now since she had even bothered with ripping a page out herself.

Molly stared at the little calendar, swallowing. She supposed Arthur had been tearing out the dates, each morning before work. Life at the Burrow was moving along around her. Arthur and Percy were going to the Ministry every day. Bill and Fleur dropped by most evenings on their way home from Gringotts, and Charlie was writing daily letters from Romania. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were spearheading the rebuilding efforts at Hogwarts, while Ginny kept herself busy at the Burrow, tending to the garden, cleaning, and cooking. And even George—whom the family was lucky to catch more than a fleeting glimpse of, these days—was occupying himself with the joke shop; he had yet to set foot in the actual Diagon Alley premises, but according to Ron, he was managing—for the time being—to successfully run the business as an owl-order service.

In the six days between the Battle and Fred's funeral, Molly too had managed to keep everything under control. She had kept active, tidying up the Burrow—which had been left in a sorry state, after the Death Eaters had come calling around Easter—cooking for her family, and making arrangements for the funeral service. But in the month that had elapsed since she had laid her son to rest, the numb, defeating exhaustion that had been gnawing at her since the second of May had finally taken over. She had run out of things to do, had run out of distractions, things to take care of—her children were all taking care of themselves. They wanted to give her time, space to grieve…but in doing so, they had taken away Molly's fight, taken away her practical, problem-solving side…and she had, at last, succumbed to the suffocating, endless exhaustion…

Molly sniffed, closing her heavy, aching eyes and curling tightly into her quilts. She was much too tired to wait up for dinner. She would sleep until the morning, and then see about managing a trip down to the kitchen for break—

There was a soft knock on the door.

Molly froze, holding her breath. It was Ginny, she knew, with the tea service and her usual evening attempts to coax Molly out of bed. Molly squeezed her eyes shut, feeling ashamed.

There came another knock. "Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly opened her eyes, startled. "Harry?" she asked hoarsely; her throat was scratchy from lack of use.

"May I come in, Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly hesitated.

"I…I'm not feeling very hungry, Harry, dear."

"I know, Mrs. Weasley," Harry's voice was very gentle—too gentle—and Molly felt a stab of mingled humiliation and frustration, "but there's someone here to see you."

Molly's eyes widened. Someone to see her…her mind jumped wildly to the image of a Healer, dressed in crisp, lime green robes, clipboard in hand.

"Molly, may please I come in?"

Molly inhaled sharply. That was a different voice—a voice she had not heard in a month.

"Andromeda?"

"Yes, Molly. I would really like to talk to you."

Molly closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, biting back irritation; even Andromeda was coddling her.

She remained quiet for several moments. Then, she cleared her throat. "Come in," she called.

There was a soft murmur, the sound of retreating footsteps, and then a click, as the bedroom door swung open. A tall, dark-haired woman stood in the door frame, a shawl draped loosely around her shoulders. And in her arms, she held—

"Teddy," Molly gasped, as Andromeda glided into the room and settled at the foot of Molly's bed, gently placing the squirmy bundle of white blankets atop the quilts between them.

Molly gazed down at the chubby, pink-faced baby, who blinked up at her through large, inquisitive eyes. A lump formed in her throat. Tenderly, she reached out and stroked the baby's fist; immediately, five little fingertips closed around her thumb.

"He looks more like Remus every time I see him," Molly said softly, taking in the soft chin and shapely nose, so familiar.

Andromeda nodded, her smile thin. "He's a handsome boy."

In spite of herself, Molly grinned; it was as close to compliment of Remus as she'd ever heard Andromeda say.

Suddenly, Teddy's light brown hair turned a vivid red, precisely the same shade as Molly's, and she let out a strangled laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "He's got his mother's personality."

Andromeda chuckled, brushing her hand over the baby's fuzzy head of gingery hair. "He has her eyes, too," she said quietly.

Molly looked once more into Teddy Lupin's wide-eyed, curious gaze, and she felt her breathing falter. There was no mistaking Tonks's eyes—dark gray, twinkling with mischief. Molly blinked, and Tonks's grinning face appeared in her mind's eye, filled with youthful excitement and confidence…warm, fierce compassion…

"Sometimes he's the only reason I can get out of bed in the morning."

Molly's gaze snapped back to Andromeda, who was staring out the bedroom window with an unreadable expression. Molly watched her profile silently. From the side, Andromeda's striking resemblance to her older sister was accentuated—the heavy-lidded eyes, the high cheekbones, the aristocratic features became more pronounced. But the differences, too, were just as marked. Andromeda's hair was a lighter brown, touched gently with gray, and her gray eyes were wider, softer than Bellatrix's…and they were filled with harrowing pain, a sense of profound loss that Bellatrix would never, ever have been capable of.

And quite without warning, Molly was overwhelmed with emotion. Molly, who had spent several weeks hiding in her bedroom from her family's concern, couldn't imagine how Andromeda had survived the past month alone in her home, haunted by the memories of those who had once lived there with her.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of Molly's stomach. "Andromeda—"

"No," Andromeda interrupted at once. "I…it wasn't my intention to garner sympathy." She paused for a moment, then turned and looked Molly straight in the eye. "Harry has been a huge comfort to me."

A rush of affection welled up in Molly. Her eyes stung.

"I'll admit—I was unwilling, at first, to allow him very much time with Teddy," Andromeda continued softly, stroking a few tufts of red hair away from Teddy's forehead. "But Harry was so patient, so understanding…"

Molly's throat swelled shut. "My sweet boy," she whispered.

Andromeda smiled at her. "He cares deeply about you, you know. It's clear from the way he talks about you."

Molly blinked back tears. Andromeda, however, didn't seem to expect a response. Rather, she turned and looked out the window again.

"Kingsley waited until a week after the funeral to tell me who…did it," she said quietly. "I think he thought it might soften the blow if he gave it some time." She paused, and her jaw clenched. "It didn't."

The tears filled her eyes in earnest, now, but Molly managed to fight back the anguished sob burning her throat. "What will happen to your children when I've killed you? When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"

"My own sister," Andromeda was murmuring now—her voice was flat, mute, as though she couldn't believe what she was saying. "My own sister—my daughter, Molly. Do you realize how sick—how despicable—?" she stopped short, closing her eyes.

Molly took several deep, shuddering breaths.

"And then, I heard about Narcissa," Andromeda said, in barely more than a whisper; a chill ran down Molly's spine. It was clear that Andromeda had been waiting to say these things aloud for a long time. "Did you know Narcissa was the one who told Bella and my parents when I gave birth to Nymphadora? Her husband had acquaintances at St. Mungo's—the news was leaked to him just a day after I had the baby." She paused, swallowing. "Twenty-five years ago, my little sister condemned my husband and daughter to certain death—and now, her entire family gets away without a scratch."

Molly didn't realize she was sobbing until Andromeda's arms were around her. She could feel her chest heaving with the effort to restrain her sorrow, her agony…but she couldn't, and suddenly, she was crying like she hadn't done since that dreadful May morning. All of the numb emptiness she had felt in the past month was disappearing—the raw, keening pain tore at her, and yet, somehow, it made her feel better, it made her feel real—more alive than she had felt in four weeks—

"I miss them," Andromeda whispered, trembling. "I miss them all."

Molly tightened her grip on Andromeda's shoulders. "I know."

It felt like several, long years before Molly managed to stop crying, and not because she felt any happier—but because she had run out of tears to shed. Her soul felt emptied. Breathing heavily, Molly fell back against her headboard and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms.

When she opened her eyes again, Andromeda was sitting cross-legged on the bed before her, tear tracks glittering on her thin face. Little Teddy lay in her lap.

"When Nymphadora told me she and Remus had gotten married, I was furious," Andromeda said quietly, not taking her eyes off of the baby. "It was the most vicious fight we ever had, and we had many over the years. Then, Remus left her, and it felt like my worst fears were being confirmed." She paused, rearranging Teddy's blankets. "But for the gift of Teddy…I could forgive him anything—" her voice broke, and she drew a deep breath.

There was a small pause as Molly stared down at her knees. She clasped her hands together tightly, her nails digging into her palms.

"When Fred and George left school to start their shop, the first thing I did was send them a Howler," she whispered. "They'd just signed their lease in Diagon Alley, and the first letter they received was a screaming one from their mother." Molly's voice faltered, but she braved on, "I'll never forget Fred's response. He was so angry with me—told me that he knew what he was doing, ordered me to stay out of their business…and now…" Molly trailed off, pressing her lips together. "Now, I'd give anything in the world to hear him shout those words at me."

Andromeda let out a strangled noise—somewhere between a laugh and a sob—and reached out and took Molly's hand in her own.

Molly squeezed her hand, smiling—forcing her tight cheek muscles upwards. Andromeda squeezed back.

There was a long, comfortable silence in the bedroom. The two women listened to Teddy grunt and coo in his sleep, watched his tiny nose twitch. His hair was now flitting through colors every few minutes—green—blue—red—pink…

"They're worried about you, you know," Andromeda said quietly. Molly stiffened, but Andromeda spoke calmly, without judgment, her gaze still on Teddy. "They're worried, but they don't know what to do to help—because you're the one who's always done the fixing."

Molly closed her eyes. She felt Andromeda squeeze her hand again and she opened her eyes, her chin trembling traitorously.

"You're a brave woman, Molly," Andromeda said softly. "Kingsley told me how you fought at the Battle. Don't stop fighting now."

There was a fierce, burning moment as Molly and Andromeda stared at each other. Molly felt a thrill of excitement, a flicker of her old determination, her familiar resolve.

With enormous effort, she pushed herself upright and very, very slowly, she swung her legs off the edge of the bed. Gingerly—and holding onto the bedpost for support—she climbed to her feet. Immediately, she felt lightheaded and she swayed alarmingly on the spot—but a gentle arm gripped the crook of her elbow, steadying her, and Molly looked around, smiling.

"Will you stay for dinner?" Molly asked, as the two of them—Andromeda holding Teddy, and Molly clutching Andromeda's shoulder—made their way across the bedroom and out onto the fourth floor landing. "I'm cooking."

Andromeda looked startled. "Molly, please. Don't go to any trouble—"

"Nonsense," Molly said briskly, feeling suddenly and refreshingly more like herself than she had felt in weeks. "You're staying—and I'll whip up a bottle of milk for Teddy when he wakes up from his nap."

Andromeda didn't respond, but Molly smiled, following her down the last few stairs and into the sitting room.

"Mummy?"

Molly felt a rush of overwhelming affection well up in her. Ginny, wearing Molly's apron and standing in the doorway that separated the sitting room from the kitchen, was gazing at her mother with a mixture of astonishment and delight. Ron and Hermione, who were sitting on the sofa by the fireplace, both looked stunned. And Harry, sprawled out on the hearth, was beaming.

"Hello," Molly said warmly, her heart swelling at the sight of each and every single one of them. "I'll get started on dinner, shall I? Andromeda's staying, and Arthur and Percy should be back from the Ministry any minute now. You must all be famished from being at Hogwarts all afternoon."

"No—Mum, sit down. Rest," insisted Ginny at once, rushing forward and taking Molly's hands in hers. "I can take care of—"

"Ginny, did you really think I'd let you have my kitchen to yourself forever?" Molly asked, arching an eyebrow at her daughter. Ginny gaped at her, looking simultaneously astounded and thrilled. "Besides, I think I've rested enough. Why don't you peel some potatoes, sweetheart, and I'll join you in just a minute?"

Ginny blinked several times, then smiled and nodded, kissing Molly's cheek and hurrying back into the kitchen. Molly turned back around to face the sitting room. Andromeda had taken a seat in Arthur's armchair, and Hermione had gotten up from the sofa to join her; she was cooing down at little Teddy, who was snuffling in his sleep.

Then, Molly caught Ron's eye. He gave her a broad grin, which she countered with a smile. She sighed softly and began walking to the kitchen.

"Er—Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly turned around. Harry stood in front of her. She smiled warmly at him. "What is it, dear?"

He hesitated for a moment. Then, with difficulty, he began, "I just…I wanted to say…I'm really glad you—" he broke off, looking uncomfortable.

But Molly didn't need to hear the rest. Swallowing the enormous lump in her throat, she stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace, drawing him close to her.

"Thank you for inviting her here, sweetheart," Molly said softly, kissing the side of his head as she finally drew back several moments later.

Harry gave her a tight smile.

"Thank you for everything else."