Ahh! I can't believe there are only seven left! :( Awww.

27 January 1967 – Secret

"Arthur, you should really get your eyes examined," said Molly for the umpteenth time. She reached out and patted his arm. "I thought you were going to get it done over Christmas?"

"Didn't have time," Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes furiously and moving the table lamp closer to his book, which he held open in his lap. He and Molly sat together in armchairs before the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "I'm fine. I'm just tired because it's so late."

"Maybe we ought to go to bed," Molly suggested, yawning and closing her book. She gestured around the Gryffindor common room. "No one else is up."

"I'm not done," Arthur told her, but he looked up and smiled. "You should sleep, though. Go on up. I'll see you in the morning."

Molly shook her head, but rested her nose against her folded arms, peering at him over the side of the chair. "That's all right. I'll keep you company." Her voice was muffled, for only her eyes were visible over the arm of the chair.

"You already re-read that essay six times just to keep me company," he said, laughing. "It's all right. Go to bed."

She arched an eyebrow; he laughed again, because it was all he could see of her face. "Don't you tell me what to do, Arthur Weasley."

He snorted, picking up his quill again. "All right. But I'm afraid that I'm going to be terribly boring."

"Just the way I like you," she said. "Now do your homework."

Arthur smiled and returned to his essay. Time ticked on, but it was not very long before he looked up again and saw that Molly had fallen asleep, her head on her arms. He smiled; her hair looked so lovely, coppery and bronze like a shiny Knut in the firelight. He watched her for a moment, making sure she was asleep. When he was satisfied, he bent over and reached into his bag, producing from a small leather case his new spectacles. They were thick and horn-rimmed, and, in his opinion, quite ugly and unflattering. But he slipped them on his nose and could almost feel his eyes relax. He looked down at the book; everything was much clearer and easier to read. He started in on his essay again with renewed vigor, working quickly for almost half an hour.

"Oh," mumbled Molly, suddenly stirring. Arthur yanked off his glasses and hid them beside his leg, smiling at her. She blinked hazily. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep."

"That's all right," he promised. "I'm almost done, anyway. Why don't you go to bed?"

"No, no," she replied, getting up and stretching. "I'll wait until you're done. I'll just pop upstairs and brush my teeth, all right?" She bent and kissed his cheek, and he blushed furiously. She winked at him, disappearing with her school bag up the girls' stairs. Arthur smiled and put his glasses on again, sure that she was gone. He frowned down at a paragraph about electrical sockets and chuckled. He did like Muggles' ingenuity and strange-looking replacements for magic. And such funny names—plugs, honestly.

He scribbled down a few more sentences, frowning slightly. Then he came to his conclusion. He closed his eyes, thinking hard for a moment as he tried to come up with a good final sentence.

"Arthur?"

He jumped a mile, taking his glasses off as he leapt up, stuffing them into his pocket. "M-Molly!" he stammered. She had come back down the stairs wearing her green dressing gown, and was looking at him in confusion. "I-I was just—"

"Are those glasses?" she asked, nodding to his pocket. Arthur felt himself turn scarlet. "Did you get them after all?"

"Well—no—I mean, I did, but—"

"Arthur," Molly chuckled, "What on earth is wrong with you?"

He was silent for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he burst out, "I hate them, Molly, they look awful. And I won't wear them, especially in front of you." His cheeks burned even darker red. "They look awful," he mumbled again.

Molly pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "Let me see," she told him. He didn't move. "Come on, Arthur, let me see."

Heaving a very reluctant sigh, he put his hand in his pocket. "Don't laugh at me."

She smiled. "Of course not."

He pulled the glasses out of his pocket and put them on his nose. Molly gave him an appraising look for several long, silent moments, and he felt his dread mounting. Finally, Arthur could stand it no longer and pulled them off again. "See? They're awful."

"No, they're not," she replied gently, taking a few steps forward. She took the glasses out of his hand and perched them on his nose again. Then she blinked, looking suddenly startled. "Look at that."

"What?" he asked self-consciously, reaching to take them off. She stopped his hand, still smiling. She was, at this moment, very, very close to him.

"You look so grown-up," she told him, and her tone was a little bit breathless, and certainly one that he had never, ever heard before. "They're really very handsome on you."

Arthur stared at her. "R-really? You don't think they're—"

"Of course not," Molly cut him off. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Arthur felt a little swell of pride in his chest. "Thanks," he said.

"Why didn't you tell me, though?" she asked. "You don't need to keep secrets from me, you know that."

"I didn't like them," he answered honestly. "I thought you wouldn't, either."

Molly laughed, sliding her arms up around his neck. "Shows how much you know about me, Arthur Weasley. I happen to like glasses. Particularly with red hair." And she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Hurriedly, he pulled back, looking all around the common room.

"What?" she asked, looking around as well..

"Just making sure your brothers aren't around," Arthur replied, pulling her in for another kiss. His glasses slid down his nose and bumped Molly's, but neither of them paid much attention.