MollyWobbles

Part V: Unforgiveable (i)

A surprise.

A/N [transported from AO3]:
Hello, all! Welcome to Part Five!! <3 <3

I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you so much for reading, for leaving comments and encouragements, and for being so kind. <3 <3 <3

I am perhaps fragile, but I found this story quite difficult to write at some points. Many of those points occur in this portion of the fic. Therefore, I highly advise discretion in considering the content warnings and your own comfort levels. Furthermore, I recommend keeping a hot mug of cocoa nearby and someone you might hug on hand. (I gave my dog numerous hugs while drafting).

As always, I do not own this story world or these characters.

I hope you all have had a lovely week, and that you are safe and well. <3 <3

Let's dive in. <3

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Playlist:
1. "Adoration" by Florence Price (Dec. 10)

[CW: brief implication of/allusion to intimacy]

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Part V: Unforgiveable (i)

Molly

December 10, 1980

The seventh was a surprise. And dear Arthur. When she told him, his brows shot up, and he nodded rapidly, holding his breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

And she could see, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he tallied and subtracted the little pittance the Ministry gave him. "And you're quite certain?" he asked.

"Yes," Molly whispered.

Arthur cupped her face, searching her eyes. A hysterical smile crept over his mouth.

It built into a light chuckle.

Then a laugh. A bit of a mad-sounding one.

Oh dear. She'd pushed him right over the edge of sanity—when would they learn to be careful? After the twins, (which had been surprise enough) with each announcement, the raised eyebrows and the meaningful stares from his brothers and the needling from hers stretched longer and longer.

Her mother had never warned her of this. Watching her temper, minding her mouth—those had been daily lectures in the Prewett household.

But why her body seemed set on remaining almost constantly pregnant for over a decade—this was a mystery. But she suspected the clock. It felt too joyous after each new spoon began to grow.

There wasn't a shred of evidence. But other people had lapses in judgement. Made little errors in planning, and it worked out for them, didn't it?

No. Not Molly Weasley.

She was being punished for how bloody charming she found her own husband, and it wasn't fair, and one of these days, he'd finally lose his patience and react with anger and sadness, and this might be the one.

Seven.

Mercy's sakes.

It was almost unforgiveable what she was putting him through, really.

"I'm to be a dad," Arthur said. "Again."

Molly nodded. "For the seventh time," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" Arthur wheezed. "Dear Merlin." He blinked at the ceiling. Tears were streaming from his eyes. "Perhaps there's room in the gnome catacombs, under the garden."

"Arthur," Molly whispered. "That's terrible."

He was joking.

That was a good sign.

Not storming out or putting his head in his hands and telling her they'd have to sort separate bedrooms.

Arthur chucked the bridge of her nose with the knuckle of his index finger, squinting and still chuckling at his own, dark humor.

"Now they're very small, Mollywobbles," he laughed. "Quite little, when they first come out of you, I've noticed." He pulled her in, laughing against her ear as he breathed. "They'll fit right in amidst the tunnels, snug as a bug."

Just like that—the hesitancy and fear evaporated.

Molly laughed too.

Arthur kissed her neck.

"Arty—" she started, scoffing. "It's four in the morning."

Besides, this was how they'd gotten into this situation to begin with.

"It's four in the morning," he mumbled, nodding and reaching around her. "And I'm in love with you."

Oh—but—

"Molly," he breathed. Then, low and teasing: "Mollywobbles—"

Molly's good sense fled out the window.

#

When they told Gideon and Fabian, Gideon hissed an indecent word, then handed a fistful of Sickles to Fabian.