10 July 1981 – Waiting
"Mrs. Weasley? Molly? Can you hear me? It's time to wake up."
Molly opened her eyes, recoiling at bitter scent of smelling salts beneath her nose. She blinked and automatically laid her hands on her very pregnant belly. She was due to have her seventh baby in about four weeks.
"Hello," she said to Healer Hornsby, who smiled, patting Molly's shoulder; she had delivered all of the Weasley children since Percy, and though she was not on duty, had responded promptly to St. Mungo's urgent call on Molly's behalf. "How long was I sleeping?"
"Only an hour or so, while we got you taken care of," she said. "You're going to be just fine. I've sent a nurse to fetch Mr. Weasley."
Molly drew a breath, slowly and evenly, and patted her belly. The stabbing pain in her middle had disappeared, and her head had stopped spinning. "Thank you," she said, as the curtains around her bed parted, and Arthur appeared.
"Oh, Molly."
"Arthur—"
"How do you feel?" he asked, taking her hand and looking at her as though it had been years since they'd seen each other. "Any better?" She smiled and nodded weakly; she was very tired. Arthur looked up at the Healer. "How is she?"
"She's doing very well," said Healer Hornsby, frowning down at Molly's chart and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We've stopped the early labor, and the baby seems to be perfectly fine, now. But…well, Mrs. Weasley, I have some concerns."
Molly swallowed, feeling a little shudder of fear run down her spine; she hadn't missed the way that the Healer had said, now. "Concerns?" she repeated, feeling Arthur's hand tighten on her own.
Healer Hornsby nodded. "You've had five very normal pregnancies—and I've overseen three of them. They've been exemplary, as a matter of fact. This one has been unusual for you."
"The nausea?" Molly asked.
"The nausea," agreed the Healer, "But particularly its persistence, and the fact that this is the first time you've experienced false labor of this severity. We would expect this in a first pregnancy, maybe a second—but even your twins were right on schedule, more or less."
"What does all this mean?" Arthur asked, rather sharply, but Molly was grateful; she was growing more and more anxious by the moment.
"I'd like to recommend that you remain on bed rest," said the Healer.
"Oh," Molly sighed. "Is that all?" She gave a weak laugh. "I—I can do that."
"There's a bit more," the Healer continued. Arthur clutched Molly's hand. "I am concerned about how the delivery will play out. The baby is facing the wrong direction. At the moment, we have managed to ensure there is nothing other than that to suggest that the delivery will be anything other than perfectly fine—but there is a chance that yours or the baby's health could be seriously compromised if anything else goes wrong. More false contractions, for instance."
Molly stared at her. "Is there—something I can do?" she asked, wishing very much that her voice was stronger than it sounded in her own ears.
"Stay off your feet for the next four weeks, at least," said Healer Hornsby. "It's the best thing for you. Keep the strain to a minimum—I know, a tall order with the boys," she smiled. "It's not at all a good idea for you to get out of bed—so I'm also going to arrange for twice-weekly check-ups at your home until he arrives."
Molly, though she knew she should have been more concerned about the fact that the Healer wanted to make house calls, rather than allow her to come in for her appointments, blinked. "He?"
"Oh," said Healer Hornsby. "I—I apologize. Some of our—well, our preliminary testing, you know, while we were tending to you—it seems to us that you're having a baby boy."
There were a few moments of silence, and it took Molly a moment to know exactly how to react. Never before had she been able to know the baby's gender before its arrival.
"Congratulations," the Healer said.
Molly looked at Arthur, who smiled. "A boy," he said quietly, and she nodded.
"I'll give you both a moment," said the Healer. "And I'll send a potion along so you can get some rest, Mrs. Weasley, and we'll be able to discharge you in the morning, as long as things stay as they are."
"Thank you," said Molly. She nodded once and disappeared through the curtains. Molly looked to Arthur. "Where are the boys?"
"I didn't think it fair to ask the Lovegoods, they've just had their—baby, so I called on Bilius," he said quietly. "I'll go back and see them when you sleep."
"Did I scare them?" she asked.
Arthur shook his head. "Billy was a little worried, but he kept it to himself for once, didn't try and scare the daylights out of the others."
Molly snorted. "Of course." She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and laying her hands on her belly. "How am I going to do this, Arthur?"
He smiled, picking up her hand and kissing it. "You'll manage. You did it for the twins."
"That was less than two weeks, not a whole month," she said. "And—what did she say?—I was exemplary for them."
Arthur laughed. "You're always exemplary. That's why I like you, you know."
"Stop making me laugh," she said, giving him a gentle shove. "You'll wake him up."
Arthur laid a hand on her middle. "He's sleeping?"
Molly blinked, gazing down at his hand. "He's all tired out from giving Mummy the scare of her life."
"He'll fit right in with Freddie and George and Ron, then," Arthur said brightly. Molly smiled, feeling, in her heart, a kind of sinking sensation that she tried to ignore. There had been a part of her that had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that because of how strangely this pregnancy had affected her, she might have been expecting a girl. She had even picked out a name—or, rather, Percy had helped her to pick it out, when he had asked her to read him a bedtime story…
"Seven boys," she said, trying to sound inexpressibly excited.
Arthur clearly didn't believe her. "I know you wanted a girl, darling. I'm sorry."
"Oh, don't be sorry," she insisted, smiling hard. "I'm not! Really, Arthur—I'm not. I just—well, I don't know. I was sure, this time—the Healer is right, this has been a very different sort of baby for me. And—and Fabian…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away from Arthur.
"Fabian what?" he asked softly.
She shook her head, sniffing. "The—the night before—everything happened," she said, "They watched the boys, you remember? So we could go out for our anniversary?"
Arthur nodded.
"Well, you were—I think you were putting one of them back to bed, or maybe talking to Gideon and Dorcas—but it was just me and Fabian in the kitchen," she said, feeling her voice break on his name. Arthur held her hand tightly, and she tried to smile. "He just looked at me and said, 'You really ought to have a girl. I think this is the one.'"
"Oh, Molly," Arthur said. "I—I didn't know that."
"Well, the next day—" Molly blinked, feeling her tears spill over. She hiccupped, sniffling, and the baby kicked. Not sharply, as he had before—but gently. She patted the spot where he had moved. "I know, darling—you don't like it when Mummy cries."
"Nor do I," said Arthur softly.
Molly smiled at him, feeling more tears slide down her cheeks. "Well, I can't—I can't think about all that—not right now," she said. She dried her face and smiled again, this time genuinely. "We're having another baby, Arthur—another little boy."
"Seven's the most powerful magical number," he replied. "Must be good luck."
Molly nodded. "And I'll—I'll be fine," she said. "I'll take care of myself."
Arthur raised his eyebrows, feigning shock. "Molly Prewett following the Healer's orders? I won't believe it until I see it."
"Oh, very funny," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand. "I've got eight Christmas sweaters to do. What better excuse could I hope for?"
"An A, a B, a C, a P, an F and a G, and an R," Arthur counted on his fingers. "Let's see…what will we call this one?"
"Septimus?" Molly asked wryly. "He'll be number seven."
"I'm not calling him Septimus, but you go right ahead," he answered, and Molly chuckled. "How about Gideon? Or Fabian?"
Molly smiled at him. "Why don't we wait and meet him?" she said.
Arthur nodded, kissing her fingers. "Waiting sounds like a good plan to me."
"Mrs. Weasley? You're Mrs. Weasley?"
Molly looked up and smiled at the nurse. "That's me," she said.
The nurse held up a small bottle of a blue potion on a tray. "Healer Hornsby's sent this for you. She'd like you to sleep sooner, rather than later."
"All right," Molly replied. The nurse brought the potion forward, and watched as Molly drank the entire dose. Then she took the tray and the empty bottle and disappeared through the curtains again. Immediately, Molly began to feel very sleepy. She blinked slowly, turning her head to face Arthur. "Go and hug my boys," she murmured. "You can tell them—they have a new brother on the way."
"You want me to?" Arthur asked, rubbing her arm.
Molly shrugged. "They've never gotten to know early. It's…it's sort of…a special…er, thing. Isn't it?"
"It's really special," Arthur told her, and she smiled.
"Tell them I love them," she told him earnestly as he got up. "Don't forget that."
"Never," he replied. "You get some rest. I'll come back after they've all been put to bed. Oh—here." He reached into his pocket and tucked something into Molly's hand. "For good luck."
She looked down. He had given her a single bronze Knut. She beamed. "Thank you, sweetheart," she murmured.
"Get some sleep," he urged her.
"Make sure Ronnie has his bear," Molly said quickly, forcing her eyes open again. "He won't sleep without it."
Arthur bent over to kiss her gently. "Sleep, Molly. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Mhmm," she murmured. Her eyes closed again. "Me 'n Ginevra…"
"What was that, Molly?"
"Hm? Whuh?" she mumbled. She opened her eyes.
"You just said 'Ginevra,'" said Arthur. He still stood over her, smiling gently with one hand in hers. "Isn't that from one of Percy's story books? 'Princess Ginevra Slays the Giant,' isn't it?"
Molly blinked lazily at him. "'S the baby's name," she mumbled. "Baby's Ginevra."
Her last view of Arthur was his amused, curious smile, before she fell totally and soundly asleep. The next time she awoke, Arthur was by her side, snoring in a visitor's chair with one hand in hers, keeping the Knut safe between them.