Times Of Her Blood

Twenty Six | Weasley's Death Trap Of A Car

It was an unusually peaceful night at the burrow. Probably too peaceful, but that didn't matter to anybody.

Molly was quite happily knitting away beside the fire, feet propped up on a dodgy stool nobody seemed to think was necessary to fix. Draped across the full length of one of the sofas was George, his hair sticking up in all of the wrong places. Laurel had been down just briefly, and threw a blanket over him when she thought nobody was looking.

Ron was sitting on the floor beside Fred, both of them eagerly listening to the radio Laurel got their dad for Christmas.

Molly glanced at the clock, smiling at the ten hands. Most of them were at home, with Laurel's suspiciously placed in the garden (they all knew better than to ask).

Nobody had questioned it when one day midway through the summer, a new hand had appeared on the clock. Though nobody noticed, Laurel had quickly wiped away a tear when she saw it, and proceeded to grin from ear to ear for the rest of the day.

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!"

Molly jumped in her seat, clutching her heart as she glared at the doorway, waiting for Laurel to come storming in.

George didn't even wake up, and the rest of them remained silent, aside from the hurried pattering of feet above.

"Merlin's beard," Fred mumbled, "Shall we start planning a funeral now, or...?"

"It'll be fine," Ron shrugged, turning up the radio, "Just ignore the problem, and the problem will go away."

"Not how it works," Fred raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged it off, "But I like the way you think."

"What a compliment," Ron muttered under his breath, turning up the volume even more when Ginny appears at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a slight blue nightie, hair tied into a plait down her back.

"Alright Ginny dear?" Molly sat forwards in her seat, smiling at her daughter.

Ginny nodded, "Everything is under control, just some small problems with the gnomes-"

"Small! I'll give you bloody small!" An exasperated voice yelled from outside, "Don't just stand there, you annoying little bean! Get out here and fix the mess you've made."

Molly shot her daughter a look, "Every time, It's one of you or the other that jinxes the gnomes to annoy each other. Can't we ever just have a quiet night?"

Ginny's lips curled into a grin, "Nope," and then she was out of the door and out of sight.

"You know," Molly sighed, "I really though Ginny would be such a sweet young lady, perhaps become a prefect or something. And now... well, now I'm wondering whether myself and your father's genes ever ought to ever have been combined."

"Me too," Ron muttered.

"I must admit," Fred sighed, "I'd wish that if I looked like Percy, perhaps," he pulled a face, "And it's quite annoying when I get confused with that scrawny git," he jabbed a thumb at his sleeping twin, earning a whack around the head with an tea towel from Molly, who immediately went back to her knitting before her sons could make another comment.

"Merlín," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Where on earth did I go wrong?"

"Well," Fred grinned, leaning forwards and slinging an arm around his mother, "I think it all started when you decided to have another kid, and then you ended up with two kids, and then you practically adopted our best friend," he motioned towards outside where Laurel was, "Who's even more bonkers than we are. But before that, you gave birth to this git-"

Ron scowled, "Hey!"

"-and he became friends with Harry Potter, the boy who survived the killing curse, and then killed our Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor at aged twelve. Oh, not to mention the curse breaker son- oh, and the one that works with dragons for a living-"

"Okay! Okay!" Molly scowled, though everyone could tell she was biting back a smile, "You know I love you all, though."

George, who everybody had figured was asleep, snorted, keeping his eyes closed as he mutters, "Yeah, but you favour Ginny over everyone-"

"Oi! I've had just about enough of you two and your sarcasm!"

George sat up, face deadly serious. Fred sighed, looking solemn, "We aren't being sarcastic."

Molly shot them both a look, and then continued her knitting, ignoring the snarky comments coming from one or both of the twins.

***

"Shhhh!"

"You shhh!"

"Im not the one stomping around like a-"

"Laurel! Can you drive this thing or not?"

She stopped, raising an eyebrow at the battered car half uncovered, "This is an antique. How do you expect this to fly if it wouldn't last two minutes on the road."

Ron shrugged, "Reckon it could survive the whomping willow."

"Ron, this thing is a death trap. You're a pureblood who didn't understand how a radio worked until a few months ago, you wouldn't understand how dangerous a car can be. It'll probably drive you into the whomping willow just because the steering's buggered-"

"For Harry," Ron pleaded, "You're the only one who can teach us how to drive this thing. Dad won't do it because mum thinks we'd... do something like this with it, but if you drive it, then we're less likely to die. And we can save Harry. He hasn't sent a single letter, and I wouldn't be surprised if they've got him locked up!"

The twins nodded, sporting matching grins.

"Fine," she couldn't hide the grin growing on her face as she looked down at the car. She quite liked anything like this- though she preferred motorbikes, "You say this can fly?"

The twins nodded, and her grin only widened as the worry disappeared and excitement bubbling in her stomach.

"Then let's go get Harry."