May 2, 1980

Standing in her garden, an infant cradled in her arms, Molly Weasley turned to face her home. The upgrades and repairs had been finished since fall, and every day she fell more in love with their handiwork. It wasn't perfect, didn't rise out of the ground like the skyscrapers of London, but it suited them nicely. Finally, each of her boys had their own room- though Fred and George insisted on sharing- and Molly no longer worried about splinters or poor flooring or any other mishap that her curious children might get into. She was glad the twins decided to share a room, as it opened up a guest bedroom for family, and even if they tired of each other in a few years, there would be enough room for them to split up.

Looking up past the roof of the Burrow, Molly noted the grey clouds beginning to pile in. There would certainly be rain in a few hours, so she moved faster to take the laundry off the clothesline and folded it into a basket with the swish of her wand. Even so, Ronald slept soundly in the crook of her left elbow, a peaceful smile on his face.

"Looks like rain, doesn't it, Molly."

"Oh, hello Freya! I didn't hear you coming." Molly folded up the last of the laundry and turned to face her friend.

"I'm sorry; I do have the habit of walking rather quietly."

"It's not a problem. Would you like to come in? I'll put the kettle on."

"Certainly."

As she entered the door, the basket of laundry levitating beside her was sent to glide up the stairs to her own room, to be sorted later. As she lay Ronald in a bassinet and set to work with preparing tea, Molly couldn't help but smile to herself. Freya Lovegood had a fluid way about her, a presence that seemed neither here nor there and, in small doses, Molly found her to be exactly the reprieve she needed from her own chaotic and wonderful household. With the kettle on, Molly joined Freya at the table, talking about the weather, their husbands, Freya's wishes to have a child of her own soon. Their conversation danced cautiously around the edge of the war. Since the thought kept haunting her, Molly paused for a minute while she made the tea pour itself, bringing the teacups to land in front of them.

"Freya... I've been meaning to thank you and Xenophilius for the wonderful article in the Quibbler- the one about Marlene. He truly did her justice, you know, and I'm sure all her friends will be circulating the paper to read it. It just might take off, yet."

Freya smiled warmly, her entire face seeming to absorb the compliment. "Marlene was a good friend of mine, too; we felt we had to write the article. She deserved to be recognized in a way that the Daily Prophet wouldn't bother with."

"Right you are, Freya. Right you are."

They sipped their tea in silence, though Fred and George played at their feet, pounding the ground with spoons and babbling in a way their mother supposed was singing. Bill and Charlie came through, wielding sticks against a cloth and shouting about fighting dragons.

"Bill, why is that cloth levitating?"

"It was an accident, Mum! Honestly! But since it happened, we decided it was a dragon to fight."

Molly shook her head, amused. "If you say so, dear. Just be careful to only slay the dragon, and not the entire house, okay?"

"Okay, Mum!"

"Your boys are wonderful, Molly. They have such imaginations, such life. I think I would like a boy, one day. Although I would love it if the first were a girl." She paused for a moment, taking in the face of her neighbor. "You still want a girl, too."

It wasn't a question, and Molly wasn't quite sure how she knew this. They were friendly, certainly, but in a neighborly way. Freya wasn't the friend Molly went running to on the nights- now few and far between- when she felt a daughter-shaped hole in her heart. But despite that, Freya had an air of being trustworthy, and Molly sighed and let herself speak.

"Yes, I do still want a girl. It's strange, isn't it, how I can still be hoping after ten years and six children."

"Not really. After all, hope is always exactly as strong as we need it to be."

Molly nodded."I suppose you're right. After Bill was born, I felt I couldn't manage if my next child wasn't a girl. Sometimes I thought I didn't even want him, and I regret that now. He's so bright, has such a future ahead of him. I can feel it. But had you told me at twenty that I would be here ten years later, five more children and no girls in the house, I don't think I could have stood the idea. My hope only stretched as far as my next child, but when Charlie was born, my hope grew with him and I haven't lost hope yet, even though we decided we were done having children."

Freya nodded and smiled without responding. A few minutes later, she took one last sip of her tea and rose. "Thank you for the tea and conversation, Molly. But those clouds are looking ominous and I should get home before the rain hits." She leaned down to pat the twins' heads, then went out the kitchen door toward her own house without waiting for a goodbye.

Freya was a strange woman, certainly, and their short conversation haunted Molly throughout her day. While she was making dinner, Percy was at her heels like always, asking questions about anything and everything.

"Why are you chopping up carrots?"

"For dinner tonight, dear."

"But they're vegetables. Why do we have to eat vegetables?"

"Because they're good for you."

"Why can't things that are good for me taste like chocolate frogs?"

"That is a very good question, indeed, Percy."

"Do we have to have soup again? We have soup for dinner every night. Can't we have chocolate frogs for dinner? How many spiders do you think live in the backyard? When can I start doing magic like you?"

As Percy wasn't waiting for answers for his questions, Molly began to tune him out, concentrating on dinner, wondering when Arthur would be home, and hoping Ronald stayed asleep until dinner was finished.

"-Come Fred and George get to play with the baby and I don't? They're babies too!"

"What? Merlin's beard." Molly left the cooking to itself and bustled to the other side of the kitchen where Ronald's bassinet was.

"Fred! George! Get away from him! You cannot play with the baby!" Somehow they had managed to drag a chair from nearby and they were both standing precariously on its edge, leaning over the cradle and poking the infant. The only time her twins were quiet was when they were up to something, and they hadn't been making a sound. She scooped one up in each arm, relieved that they'd done nothing worse than poke their brother, who still slept soundly, and set the twins down in the kitchen.

"Let the baby be! Sit here until dinner's ready." Exasperated, she went back to finishing dinner, thinking that she would rather watch all four of her other children than just these two any day. Another child would be a terrible idea- the thought that she could have another boy like these two was enough to unnerve her.

Dinner went surprisingly well, with Fred and George at opposite ends of the table, Fred watched by Bill and Charlie, and George by her side. The evening was smooth and passed quickly, and soon enough her six boys were in pyjamas in the living room, ready for a story before bedtime. Molly couldn't help but glance anxiously at the door, and was glad as Arthur walked in while Bill, Charlie, and Percy quietly debated which story they wanted to hear.

He walked into the room just as the three boys decided on Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump, and was greeted by a chorus of "Daddy!"s. The three eldest began overlapping accounts of their day, and Fred and George talked right along with them, their only distinguishable words being "Fred", "George," "bad," "ball," and "mine."

"All right, kids, I will listen to each of your days when I tuck you in for bed. It looks like your mum was just about to read you a story."

"Can you read it, Daddy? You do the voices best," Charlie said, and his brothers were quick to voice their agreement.

Arthur settled into the couch beside his wife, The Tales of Beedle the Bard in hand. Bill and Charlie shared an overstuffed chair by the fireplace; Percy curled up into Molly's side on the couch; the twins lay on the floor,arms around each other; and Ronald was asleep in his bassinet. Arthur read dramatically, their boys enthralled as if they didn't already know the tale by heart. The story over, he gathered Bill and Charlie for bed. Percy half-opened his eyes to look up at his mother. "When do I get a baby sister?" he asked, closing his eyes and yawning as Molly picked him up to carry him to bed.

As she lay him down, she whispered to her already-sleeping child. "I can't promise you a sister, but maybe just one more child would be perfect."