Author's note: Molly and Arthur have been on the back burner for a while, but we're finally gonna get to see some more of them in this chapter and the next one.
"For some, life went back to normal as fall settled in. Harry and Ron started work with the auror department, finally learning how to survive without Hermione readily available. They hung out with little Teddy Lupin on weekends, which did them both a world of good. Charlie, too, went back to work, unable to delay his return to Romania any longer.
Ginny and Hermione went back to school, sharing a dorm and trying to settle back into school life. Hermione was not the only muggle born from her year who was back after having her education disrupted, which made the experience less lonely. Ginny threw herself into quidditch, already thinking of professional teams and player contracts and a possible career there. She'd been unable to find a good pair of beaters and ranted about it to anyone who would listen, including Hermione. Hermione, meanwhile, was overextended and constantly on the verge of a breakdown.
Hermione was aiming to earn twelve N.E.W.T.s, preferably twelve grades of "outstanding." She was constantly in the library, and if she wasn't studying she was in the restricted section working on Percy's case. She figured he was likely using a fidelius charm for concealment, which meant it would be hard to crack—after all, a fidelius charm had protected Harry's parents from Voldemort himself, and he hadn't found them until their secret-keeper betrayed them. Hermione made a list of people who might be Percy's secret-keeper and Ginny helped her track them down one by one: Oliver Wood, Penelope Clearwater, a few people he'd worked with in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and his old muggle neighbors. The muggle neighbors, sick and tired of people banging on their door asking about Percy, threatened to take out a restraining order on them. After Hermione explained to Ginny what a restraining order was, they agreed to abandon the search for a secret-keeper. After all, Ginny reasoned, Percy was always a very self-contained person. He was probably his own secret keeper.
Bill, Fleur, and George joined forces to contribute to the search as well. Bill had been trying to apply his curse-breaking knowledge with little success. Each weekend all three of them would go to a different public place for a meal, then sit and watch the people go by, eyes peeled for a tall, red-haired bloke. Because Kingsley had found Percy in a muggle area of London they stuck to muggle areas, though sometimes they went to the Leaky Cauldron or Hogsmeade. By November Fleur had read twenty-three books while sitting at sidewalk cafes, Bill had developed a hatred of beer and sandwiches, and George declared that he would never set foot in another muggle restaurant because they were all tainted with the memories of this experience. Still, they soldiered on, thinking that sheer dumb luck might be their best strategy. George, though he complained, needed those outings too. Still not ready to re-open the shop, these outings were often the only reason he left the house.
Molly and Arthur, after an initial round of arguments, had finally made a tenuous peace. Arthur went back to work in September, claiming he'd gotten his drinking problem under control when everyone close to him knew this was a lie. He did just enough at work to not be fired, coasting on the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt was reluctant to fire his friend. He was now head of the misuse of muggle artifacts department, which came with a nice raise, though he was in no condition to enjoy it. He ended up blowing most of it at the Leaky Cauldron, claiming that the alcohol was the one thing that made him forget, the one thing that helped him live with himself. On the occasions that Bill, Fleur, and George did their weekend outings at the Leaky Cauldron they frequently found Arthur still there, passed out at the bar, and took him home.
Had Molly been in a better state of mind she would have given Arthur a tongue-lashing for his behavior, but as it stood she was in no condition to do that. Gone were the days of too much beef stew and too many pies in the freezer. Ever since the letter and the vial of potion had arrived she had gone numb, rarely leaving her bed or speaking to anyone. George, the only kid still living at home, quickly learned how to cook and clean in order to prevent the house from falling apart.
By December, with no changes to their situation, the Weasleys were poised for an awful Christmas. The trouble began with the Weasley sweaters.
Molly had had a hard time counting sweaters for everyone. There was the addition of Fleur, Harry as always, and Hermione was to get one as well—give it a few years and Hermione would probably be married into the family. Then there were the gaping holes in the family. Should she make one for Fred? For Percy? In the end she decided on both. Fred's could be put somewhere after Christmas, perhaps tucked away in his dresser drawer or left by his grave or kept in a keepsake box. Then there was the one for Percy. She decided to try sending it to him by owl, not letting herself think about what would happen if he could not be found by owl.
The day she planned to start wrapping them and sending them off, Arthur came to help her as he always did. In past years it had been fun. They'd drink some eggnog and listen to Celestina Warbeck while wrapping up jumpers to be sent off to Hogwarts. This year, though, they worked in the silence. The room was quiet too, dark and cold.
Arthur helped Molly count the sweaters. Hermione, Harry, Fleur, a tiny one for Teddy Lupin, and seven for their children. "Seven?" he asked.
"I wasn't going to leave Fred out." Molly said defensively. "He's still part of the family, dead or not. I haven't worked out where we'll put it, but we'll come up with something."
Arthur picked up the other jumper, navy blue with a "P" worked onto the front. "And you made one for . . . for . . ."
"I did." Molly said. "We'll try sending it to him by owl."
"And then what? He'll come back to us, lured in by a jumper?"
"I'm not going to exclude him." Molly said. "He's part of the family, no matter what."
"And you think a hand-knitted jumper is going to fix things?"
"Well, I'm trying!" Molly said. "I don't know if it will, but I'm going to try."
Arthur sighed. "You'll try, of course. Who knows if the owl will even be able to find him? And then what if he doesn't want the jumper? He wouldn't, after what I did to him. No child would want that, no child will ever love me again . . ."
"Arthur, I am sick and tired of you feeling sorry for yourself." Molly said. "I know you're torn up about what happened, but don't shit on me for trying to fix the situation. You can either wallow in your regret or you can help me try to plan Christmas."
"What's the point?"
"What's the point? What's the point? The point is trying to find some good in the world and trying to show our other kids that we're still there for them."
Arthur sighed. "That would be a lie, though. I know I haven't been perfect, Molly, but you're their mother and all you've done lately is sit in your bed staring at the wall! You can't be mad at me for being a bit sour when you've completely checked out of everything!"
"At least I'm not drinking myself into an early grave!"
"No, you're just making George do all the cooking and cleaning because you can't bring yourself to do it!"
Molly threw down the jumper she was holding. "I am grieving! Hermione said this was a normal psychological response! Besides, George is a grown adult, they all are! He's not going to grow up damaged or anything because he has to do cooking and cleaning! Don't judge how I grieve!"
"I will judge how you grieve when it affects other people!"
"Oh don't you talk to me about grieving affecting other people! You're out drinking every night and I never know where you are! Bill and Fleur keep having to bring you home when you're passed out somewhere at some bar. What if you died, Arthur, what then? What if you died of liver poisoning and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces?"
"I can't do this." Arthur grabbed his cloak. "I'm going to Hogsmeade."
"Arthur, it's Christmas!" Molly snapped. "We spend an evening wrapping up jumpers every year, and you had to ruin it by being all doom and gloom and shitting all over my efforts to make Christmas nice!"
"I told you, I don't see the point. This isn't going be like any other Christmas."
"Arthur, it's Christmas! You can't just leave!"
"I can and I will! I don't care." He grabbed his cloak and swept out the door.
Molly sighed and sank into a chair, leaving all the jumpers spread out on the table. George slipped into the kitchen and finished wrapping the jumpers. "George, you're not supposed to see that before Christmas." Molly said in a hollow voice.
"I'm twenty years old." George replied evenly. "I'm not a kid anymore. Where's Errol? Let's get this jumper sent off to Percy." He opened the owl cage and woke poor old Errol, who had been napping with his head under his wing. "Get up, you old bat. You've got to take a package to Percy." He tied the parcel to Errol's leg and gently pushed him out the window. "You know, Harry's old owl Hedwig managed to get letters to Sirius Black while he was on the run. Maybe an owl can find Percy. Why haven't we tried it?"
"I'm worried it won't work." Molly said. "Then we'll feel even worse than we did before."
"Well, we won't know unless we try." George said. He sighed and looked around the room. "When do Hermione and Ginny come back? Tomorrow?"
Molly nodded. "Hermione and Ginny come back from school tomorrow. Harry and Ron are also coming back home tomorrow, as are Bill and Fleur. Charlie comes back in a few days. After that, we try not to kill each other for a week."
. . . . . . . .
The next day the Hogwarts crew came back, as did Bill, Fleur, Ron, and Harry. That day was a frenzy of unpacking and getting settled and decorating the tree and debriefing the last several months. Most of the family had little interest in helping decorate the tree, but Ginny and George clearly needed the distraction and threw themselves into decorating.
The day after that Errol returned from his errand in dramatic fashion, first bashing his head on the window frame, then landing in the middle of the dinner table and collapsing in a bowl of lumpy mashed potatoes that George had made.
Ginny reached forward and grabbed the parcel. "What is this? What does he have?"
"That's Percy's jumper." George whispered. There was a long silence.
"That's like a return-to-sender." Hermione finally said.
"A what?"
"In the muggle post, if you write the address wrong or they can't find who you're trying to mail it to, it gets returned to you—the sender. When an owl comes back with the original letter, it means they couldn't find the addressee."
George gulped and looked at his mother, who had gone very white and was staring straight ahead. "Say it a little louder, Hermione, why don't you?"
"I'm just trying to help!" Hermione snapped. "If you'd rather I didn't, I'll stop driving myself crazy reading library books every single day."
"No, she's fine." Ginny said. "George, you're just worried about Mum and saying things you don't mean. Right, George?"
George nodded sheepishly and sat back down. "You just want us to have a nice dinner, right, Mum?" Molly nodded. "Right. So let's have a nice dinner."
"Where's Dad?" Ron asked.
George sighed. "Tactless, Ron. We're trying to have a nice dinner here. He did what he always does: felt all sorry for himself while he and Mum were wrapping the jumpers, picked a fight with her, then left. Mum's trying her best to give us all a nice Christmas and he goes ruining it."
The others, just now realizing that Molly did indeed want them to have a somewhat normal Christmas, sat up a little straighter and began eating their food. Harry asked Ginny to tell the family about her quidditch prospects and Ginny happily obliged, turning the topic of conversation towards something hopeful for the future. Ron tucked into several helpings of George's food, which he claimed was nearly as good as their mother's. Molly merely picked at her food and watched the others, anxious to see them enjoying a nice meal. Fleur also picked at her food, looking rather ill and pretending to follow along with the quidditch conversation.
After dinner everyone bolted from the table as fast as politeness allowed. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all disappeared to Ron's room to discuss whatever it was they discussed. Fleur said she was going to go lie down. George sorted a pile of mail and found a Christmas card addressed to him from Angelina Johnson, expressing her condolences, and he went back up to his room and thought about how he would reply to her.
Molly was the last one at the table, left alone in the ruins of a Christmas already gone sideways. She flicked her wand and the leftover food vanished. Then she picked up Percy's jumper, which was still in the middle of the table. How foolish she'd been to think that making a jumper and tying it to Errol's leg would solve anything. She held the jumper close, wishing her son would come through the back door at that moment and she could hold him close and give him the love he so clearly needed. He was probably alone at this very moment, eating one of those abominations the muggles called a microwave dinner.
Perhaps Arthur was right. Perhaps there was no point to any of this. They'd decorated a tree and wrapped presents and had eggnog, and for what? All this while one of her sons was in the ground and another was off alone. She wished that Arthur would come back now and hold her. He'd always been there to help her make sense of the world when nothing made sense, but now he'd decided he would rather have the alcohol to help him make sense of the world.
Molly sighed angrily and swept Percy's Christmas jumper into the nearest wastebasket, then went upstairs. She paused outside her room, taking a deep shuddering breath before she had to go back inside to her rumpled, sweat-soaked bed. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Christmas was supposed to be the best time of the year, and she couldn't manage any of it. She couldn't even send a gift to Percy.
Hand on the doorknob, she paused. Bill and Fleur were staying in Bill's childhood bedroom, which was just across the hall from the master bedroom. Their voices were just barely audible through the door. Molly knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, especially on a married couple discussing what was undoubtedly private business, but she couldn't go inside either, so she stood frozen at the door.
"Ze test was negative." Fleur's voice.
"Honestly, that's probably for the best." Bill said. "Given everything that's going on right now, the family upended . . ."
"I know." Fleur said. "We are probably better off putting it off a while longer."
"Which is not to say we don't want it to happen eventually. But Merlin's beard, can you imagine if that test had been positive?"
"Eet would 'ave been a disaster."
"Let's just try to get through the holidays." Bill said in a low voice. "Dad's still being difficult, Mum's depressed, Fred and Percy are gone, and I just know Ron is going to pick a fight with someone, probably with George. None of us even feel like celebrating."
"Still, I think it is important to be here." Fleur's voice. "We may not feel like celebrating, but I think it is important for the family to be together. We 'ave a Christmas dinner, we exchange a few gifts, we are thankful for those who are here and we remember those who are not. Very simple, non?"
"I remember why I married you." There was a trace of a smile in Bill's voice.
There was no smile on Molly's face, however, as she finally opened the door and collapsed on her bed. She took a vial of dreamless sleep potion, uncorked it, and downed its contents, hoping to escape the nightmare that was her waking life.
Once again not my best work, once again dealt with writer's block and ultimately a mess of a chapter that's verging on too long.