Molly's apology
1 Molly Weasley woke up the next morning on a mission. She'd behaved terribly the night before, and she knew it. She knew it even as she was escaping the kitchen and she knew it as Arthur came home from George's flat in a fury at her behavior. Last night marked her least-proud moment as a mother. Now she only needed to figure out how to fix it. Being a mother for twenty seven years had taught her that food was always a good start to fixing things.
So Molly began mixing up some biscuits. While she mixed up the biscuits she took a moment to reflect on what had happened the night before.
It wasn't necessarily the fact that George is gay that bothered her so much. She didn't really have any problem with gay people, although she'd never really known anyone who is gay. The problem is that she'd always had certain expectations. And one of her expectations for the twins was that they were going to be her kids who made the best parents. Kids like Fred and George, kids who had a terrific sense of humor and who seemed to maintain a permanent sense of childishness were always the best parents.
Then Fred died, and Molly grieved not only for the loss of her son, but for the loss of his future and the loss of any future grandchildren. She was still grieving and was doubtful she'd ever stop. So last night, when George made his announcement, she felt like she was grieving for the loss of these beautiful future grandchildren that she'd never have. Except that she would, of course, have grandchildren. Bill and Fleur were expecting. She knew Hermione would want children later in life, and she figured Ginny would too. But Fred and George were the two that she really wanted to see become parents, because she knew that they'd be the best at it. They were both so much like Arthur in personality.
And if Molly were to admit something that she didn't want to, it's that she'd secretly harbored a dream that George would fall in love with Angelina Johnson. It was a scenario she'd worked out in her mind one day, and one which she couldn't let go once he'd hired her to help out in the shop. Molly liked Angelina.
Of course, Molly liked Neville too. Ginny had told her that Neville was a rock for her during her sixth year at Hogwarts. When Molly had asked about details, Ginny just shook her head and refused to say anything more. And you couldn't forget the boy's bravery in battle. Anyone who wanted to call gay men sissies needed to do nothing more than take a look at George and Neville who'd fought so hard and taken so many losses so gracefully.
When Arthur came home from trying to talk, unsuccessfully, to George, he was so mad at Molly for what she'd done. And really, Molly couldn't blame him. So she went to bed alone, certain that she'd ruined her relationship forever with George.
She dreamed about Fred. Fred was holding her clock, her special magical clock, and talking to it. She looked at the clock and noticed that it was a little different. The Fred hand was pointing to an area that said Safe. There were other hands on the clock now too. Fleur was there, and so was a smaller hand pressed up against Fleur's that said Victoire. Who was Victoire? Is that Bill and Fleur's baby? Hermione had a hand, Harry had a hand. Everyone's hands were pointing to Home. Everyone's except George's. George's hand was pointing to a word that said, Hurting.
Molly listened to Fred talking to the clock. "It's not so much that George is hurting," he was explaining to the clock. "It's that he's a bit angry. Look, clock. You've made a hand for Hermione. You've made one for Harry. Why not one for.." he trailed off. Then Fred smiled, "That's right," and he held up his hand and another clock hand appeared magically in it.
Molly leaned over. The hand read Neville. Fred put the hand right on top of the George hand, and immediately both hands moved from hurting right next to Fred's safe.
Fred continued to talk to the clock, "If only mum would go here," Fred moved the clock hand that read Molly and pointed it to yet a new location, which read George's flat, "she could work this thing out. It's not too late. Mum didn't mean to make anyone feel bad. I know that and you know that. But I don't think George knows it. The only way it'll be all right is for mum to be completely honest with George. He isn't a child anymore."
Molly woke up in a cold sweat, reaching out to try and touch Fred. She knew. She knew what she had to do. She would make things right with George. She had to. She'd do it for Fred. No, it was too late for that. She'd do it for George.
Molly apparated to George's front door. She tried the handle. It was unlocked, not that it would have mattered if it was locked. George had given her a key long ago. Molly walked inside the quiet flat. George was most likely still asleep.
Molly tiptoed to George's room and knocked quietly. There was no sound. She pushed the door open silently and saw George and Neville on the bed. Both boys were lying on their sides, facing each other. They were naked. Or at least Neville was. He was closest to Molly, with his back facing her. A sheet was pulled up to just his hips, just below the start of his buttocks. Molly grimaced to see several long scars, which look like whip scars running down his back. But what really got to Molly was the position the boys were in.
Facing each other, arms interlocked. Molly was sure if she pulled the sheets down, she'd see a tangle of four feet as well.
Molly shut the door and leaned against the wall, tears streaming down her face. It wasn't seeing George in bed like that, naked with another man. That actually didn't concern her at all, in fact, now that she saw it, it seemed quite natural for him. It was the position that they were lying in. Molly remembered so clearly when the twins were two and a half years old and Molly moved them out of one big crib and got them each a bed.
"Now you boys each get your own bed!" She had said to them, trying to get them excited for the prospect of more room to sleep.
It didn't matter. Every morning until they were about eleven years old, Molly would wake them up, and they'd be lying in the same bed, face to face, arms and feet interlocked in the same exact way she'd just seen George and Neville's.
A very clear memory came charging at Molly with sudden ferocity. One morning when the twins were three, she went into their room and found Fred awake but George still asleep. They were in that same position. She disentangled Fred and pulled him to the empty bed with her. He stood on her lap, with some difficulty as she was quite pregnant with Ginny at the time.
"Freddy," she whispered, trying not to wake George. "I've got you and Georgie each your own bed. You don't need to sleep together."
Fred leaned in and hugged her and whispered in her ear. "Yes we do, mummy. It makes us safe at night."
And really, what could she do about it? So she let them sleep like that as long as they wanted to.
Safe. Neville makes George feel Safe. Molly told herself. That's what Fred told me in my dream.
Molly went to the kitchen and laid the basket of biscuits on the table. She got some marmalade out of the icebox and set it next to the basket. She searched George's cupboards for plates and chose two. She thought about it some and chose a third plate. Then she sat in a chair and waited.
It wasn't long before she heard the sounds of George and Neville waking up. She heard low voices, but couldn't tell what they were saying. One boy went to the bathroom, then back in to the bedroom. Then the other went into the bathroom. After the toilet flushed, they walked into the kitchen together.
"Mum!" George gasped.
"Maybe I should go," Neville said nervously. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. Molly was just grateful that they'd both at least pulled on pants.
"No," George said angrily. "You're welcome here. Mum should go."
Molly held up the basket. "I made biscuits. I want to talk."
George crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't want to talk."
Molly started crying. "Georgie, I'm sorry. I need to explain what I did last night. Please, have a biscuit."
George hesitated before sitting down on the edge of the chair. Neville was still standing in the doorway, unsure if he should interfere with this mother/son moment.
"Go ahead," George said to Molly.
Molly took a deep breath. She explained everything to him. She explained about grieving not only for the loss of Fred but for future grandchildren. She explained that she thought the twins were going to be the best parents of all her children. She told George that parents sometimes have expectations for their kids, and it's an awful thing to do to a kid - saddle them with certain expectations, but all parents do it. And she'd never meant her expectations of Fred and George's potential parenthood to be anything that could tear them apart. She told George about her dream with Fred.
George looked up. "Fred was in your dream?" he asked, his face, which had been blank this whole time, showing sudden interest.
Molly looked taken aback. "Yes. With my clock. He told me to come talk to you. And that Neville makes you feel safe." Molly looked at Neville with an embarrassed smile.
Neville was taking all this in with interest. Neville had spent nearly his whole life aching for the care of a mother. If George let his mother, this fantastic woman who came to admit her mistakes, go without forgiving her, well, he was going to have a real problem with George.
George leaned back in his chair. He looked like he wanted to admit something. It was silent for a few moments before he said something completely unexpected. "I've always thought the wrong twin died."
"What?" Neville asked sharply. He was horrified to hear George saying this. Either twin was the wrong twin.
"George!" Mrs. Weasley admonished.
George shrugged. "I can't give you grandchildren. Fred could have. Fred would have had a nice normal life with a wife and children. I'm an outcast. I'm the gay one."
Mrs. Weasley balked. "George. No. That wasn't my point. My point is that I was wrong for feeling that way. For making you pay for my expectations of you. The truth is, I care about you. Not about any would-be grandchildren."
George shook his head. "I get what you're saying, Mum. I'm just saying that ever since Fred died, I've felt like it should have been me, not him. But I wasn't quite sure why I felt that way. But you just gave me a reason. Fred could have given more to the family than I can."
"No. No." Molly was insistent. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that again. If it was going to be anyone, it should have been me or your dad. Parents are supposed to die before their children. We should have been there to protect Fred."
"It was war Mum, and Fred was of age. You protected Ginny."
Molly shrugged. "It's true," George insisted. "Mum. Ginny would be dead if it wasn't for you. We all know it."
"So would I," Neville added. "Ginny, Hermione and Luna were fighting Bellatrix. But it was me she wanted. I could feel it. You came in, Mrs. Weasley. You saved my life too. You saved Hermione and Luna's. Not just Ginny's."
George looked at Neville with interest and he turned to his mother. He leaned in and kissed Molly on the cheek. "It's all right, mum. I love you."
Molly looked surprised. "George. Honestly. I don't ever want you to think you should have died in Fred's place. I don't. I've never thought that. Your father has never thought that."
George shook his head. "I understand. I just surprised you yesterday. I think there was no good way of telling you about..." George trailed off and waved his hand vaguely between himself and Neville, "this."
Molly hesitated. "Are you sure? Are you sure you aren't angry with me?"
George nodded emphatically. "Very sure."
Neville, still standing in the doorway, came to the table and sat down gingerly.
George said, "We need to make this up to Ron."
"Make what up?" Molly asked.
"Mum," George said exasperatedly. "Two nights in a row, this announcement about me and Neville completely stole Ron's thunder. He asked Hermione to marry him. Last night should have been about him and Hermione."
"I suppose you're right. I think we'll throw them an engagement party," Molly thought out loud. "Hermione and Ginny just started Christmas break and they don't go back until the third of January." Molly looked up at Neville and George, "Maybe we could do a New Year's Eve party?"
"Mum, that sounds good." George grabbed a biscuit and started chewing. "Mmm. Good," he mumbled handing a biscuit to Neville, who started eating tentatively. "Let us know if we can help."
Molly stood up. "I've got only ten days to prepare for this party!" She started mumbling incoherently as she waved her wand and a quill and parchment flew out of her bag. The quill began taking notes on its own while Neville watched, impressed.
George stood up, "Mum. I've got to open the store soon." He leaned in and kissed her again on the cheek.
Molly stopped in the middle of a sentence and the quill and parchment fell to the floor. She ran a hand over George's cheek. "I'm sorry," she said again. "About last night."
George shrugged. "It's all right. Really, mum. I'm glad you came over."
Molly turned to Neville and smiled. "You're one of mine now," she said.
Neville laughed and hugged her. "I'm glad to be."
