28 July 1997 – Sorrow

Arthur startled awake from the midst of a very vivid and unpleasant dream, undoubtedly born of the night's horrors, and looked around. Molly was not in the bed, nor was she in the room. He sighed. He knew where she had gone, and so slipped out of bed and pulled on his robe, tying it as he went down the spiral stairs.

"It's all right, darling…shh, shh…come on, now…"

Arthur stopped. He had fully expected Molly to be in the sitting room, watching over George, who had felt too ill to try and get upstairs to his bed. In fact, George was still soundly sleeping on the sofa beneath a pile of blankets, but there were lights and sounds coming from the kitchen. Arthur tiptoed toward the door and heard a hearty sniff.

"Sorry," muttered a stuffed-up voice. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Freddie," said Molly gently.

"Well—you all—I mean, you're all okay—and so is he—but it's just—" Fred's voice broke, and Arthur heard the scrape of a chair; Molly had obviously moved closer to him.

"Darling, of course he is," she told him. "That doesn't mean we're not sad, and very, very upset." She was quiet for a moment. "Oh, sweetheart—what can I say?"

"Nothing," Fred said quickly, and Arthur recognized the tone; he was trying to evade discussing this breakdown. "There's nothing—he's all right, I'm all right—and—except for Mad-Eye—we're all okay. That's the end of it."

Molly sighed, and Arthur knew she felt Mad-Eye's loss as sharply as he did. "That's not the end of it, darling, I think we both know that."

There was a long moment of silence. When Fred spoke again, it was in a carefully controlled tone. "I think—I just had—a scare, Mum. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I'm okay."

"Fred."

Arthur froze. Molly never used that voice, unless—

"Don't lie to me. I am your mother, I know when you do it."

In any other situation, Fred would have taken this as a challenge, a chance to push Molly's buttons just a little bit more…but Arthur's eyes lingered on George's sleeping from. The small, clean, dark hole that was once his ear was visible, and it made Arthur's stomach churn to see it. Snape's curse could have flown just a little more to the left, and…

In the kitchen, Fred was crying again.

"All right, sweetheart…it's all right…shh, shh-hh-hh…"

Arthur blinked; his eyes stung with tears and watered. He chanced a peek around the wall, looking into the kitchen doorway. Molly was staring back at him as she held a sobbing Fred in her arms, her own eyes full of tears; she had known he was there, of course she had known. She always knew, because she was—Molly.

He made a very weak attempt at a smile. She simply blinked once, slowly, breaking eye contact with him, and kissed the top of Fred's head again. She whispered, "Shh, sweetheart, shh…"

Fred hugged her more tightly, and she rubbed his back softly. At last, he seemed to quiet.

He sat up, sniffling, and Arthur stepped out of sight again, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. Then he heard something that, for any number of strange reasons, made his heart swell with—of all things, on a night like tonight—pride.

"Don't tell George, okay?"