A/N: I am not, never have been, and never will be J.K. Rowling. Anything you recognize belongs to her. In my head canon, Lily and Hugo are the youngest of all the cousins, so they are the only ones not born yet when this story takes place. My prompt for this chapter was "roses."

May 2, 2006

Hermione and Ron were home from St. Mungo's, and they planned to stay at the Burrow for about a month while they adjusted to being parents. The past week had gone well and Molly was impressed with how quickly they adjusted to parenthood. Family members and friends were in and out of the house to visit the newest Weasley grandchild, and since it was Victoire's seventh birthday, most everyone was crowding the kitchen and the living room, excited to spend time with both the oldest and the youngest niece. Charlie couldn't get away from his work in Romania, but by dinner time, the rest of Molly's children and grandchildren were there.

Molly had spent the afternoon making a relatively simple dinner to feed her growing family, and it was with elation that she set the chicken and chips onto the table set for twenty. The children old enough to sit on their own had a table to themselves, while the adults and toddlers gathered around the long dining table set in the backyard. At any given time, three or four different threads of conversation weaved their way among the adults, talking over one another, jumping in to a different subject when so inclined, and there was no lack of generally friendly feelings as they talked. Hermione and Percy discussed reforms at the Ministry; George and Ron took it in turns to tell stories of their youth to their siblings-in-law; Bill and Fleur spoke mainly to one another, often in French, their tone completely loving.

As dinner ended, everyone's attention turned to the doors leading into the kitchen, which had just opened to reveal a cake floating out with seven sparkling candles. Victoire, who had just been bickering with her sister, stopped mid-word to stare at the gigantic pastry. "Grandma Molly, is that all for me?!" Her eyes lit with wonder as she asked.

"It's to celebrate you, dear, and you'll get to blow out the candles, but everyone will get to have a piece of cake."

"Okay, Grandma," Victoire said, clearly disappointed, though she perked up after all of her candles blew out at once and Molly cut her an overly generous piece to eat.

The sun went down and Molly's children set about getting their own children ready for bed. Ron and Hermione retired to their room, their sleeping daughter in hand. Molly sat down to enjoy the calm after the storm, her husband sitting nearby reading the Daily Prophet. She couldn't handle the stillness for long, and charmed her knitting to begin again; the problem with her growing family was how soon she had to begin working on their Christmas sweaters. While she supervised her knitting needles, she chatted quietly with Arthur.

"Mum?"

Surprised by the interruption, Molly's needles stopped their work and dropped into a chair as she turned to the doorway. Ginny stood there in pyjamas, bags under her eyes, but she was smiling.

"Hello dear. Is everything okay? Did you get Albus to sleep all right?"

"Yes; he's doing much better now. Harry and I have been getting far more sleep than we did in February and that's good."

"What's keeping you up so late tonight, then?"

"I was hoping to talk to you for a bit."

"Of course, Ginny! Come sit down; you can move the knitting."

She hesitated. "Actually, would you mind taking a walk through the garden?"

"Not at all," Molly said, smiling. She picked up a shawl from the kitchen as they moved outside and offered one to her daughter as well. For a few minutes they walked in silence, enjoying each other's company, appreciating the way Molly's roses shown in the moonlight.

They paused beside Molly's favorite rose bush and, eyes still focused on the flowers, Ginny began to speak. "Did you always want a daughter, even before Bill was born?"

Molly sighed. "Yes, I did."

Ginny took her time responding, seeming to contemplate the petals in front of her. "Were you ever mad that Bill and Charlie were boys?"

"Is this about Rose?"

"Will you please answer the question first?"

"Okay. In all honesty, yes. Every time someone said, 'It's a boy!' my heart broke because I wanted a daughter. And sometimes it was really hard for me, back in the early days, to appreciate my sons. But long before you were born, that changed. And I love every one of them so much and can't imagine life without them."

"Thanks, Mum." They walked on a little further before Ginny spoke again. "Yes, it's about Rose. It just doesn't seem fair that I wanted a girl so much and we had James, and then Albus, and Hermione was pregnant too, and then Rosie was born and- it just isn't fair. Hermione and Ron didn't care nearly as much as I did. Sometimes- Mum, I'm so sorry for thinking this, but sometimes I think to myself, 'I quit the Harpies for this? I quit living for this?' Isn't that terrible?"

"Ginny, dear, you don't stop living when you become a mother. Remember that, okay? Do you know what your father used to tell me on nights when I felt that way?"

"What?"

"He would pull me close late at night when I was crying and remind me that it was normal to feel like my life was over, that I might feel that same sense of incompleteness even if Bill had been a girl. But then he would kiss my hair and remind me that no one was mandating the number of children we had. Percy, the twins, Ron, and you were all 'maybe just one more.'"

"Mum!"

"Well, it's true, dear. And something to think on. Also, remember that every child is different, and James will never be 18 months old again. Remember to love him now." Molly pulled her daughter close to her and ran her hand along her back. "It's quite late now. Maybe we should go inside."

Ginny pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and began walking back towards the kitchen door. She went inside and began to climb the staircase, but stopped after a few steps and turned around to face Molly. "Oh, and Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I've always wanted to have three children," Ginny said, smiling, as she made her way up the stairs.