Molded Joy

3 - Finding Comfort

"Isn't it enough for you that you kept your pregnancy a secret from him and aborted his baby, Molly? Trapping him into a marriage that will never produce anything seems quite cruel. Especially when it's so clear he wants children," Molly's mother chided as she continued cooking a pie for who-knew-what reason, likely because her father had asked for one, as usually was the case.

"It really would be best, I think, if you broke things off while you still have a chance and picked up a lucrative hobby and contented yourself with that. Breeding kneazles and selling them I hear is quite profitable," her mother suggested.

The middle age woman reached for the pie pan to put the cherry filling in as she continued to chat about all the things Molly should do besides marry Arthur. "Or, better yet, Molly, you are quite good at knitting and sewing, you could work for the Secondhand Robe Shop! I bet you'd enjoy it there. You'd get to hear gossip all day from the witches and wizards coming in and just think of the fun you could have making things pretty again!

"Oh, this might also interest you! I remember a year or so ago I read a nice little engagement announcement in the paper about this man and woman, who said how they met through her work. He was a widower with children and she was sweet on his little boys when they came to her workplace and, eventually, he asked her on a date and then he proposed a short time later! I'm sure by now they must be happily wed. If you let poor Arthur go to find a more appropriate wife, you might have the same luck, Molly. It's not as if you aren't a becoming girl and surely, with your skills with children, you could woo a widower into marrying you by being kind to his children."

Uncurling and curling her toes at the kitchen table where she painted them in preparation for the toe-less heels she'd be wearing with her wedding dress, Molly didn't stop the sneering pull of her lips as her hair was blocking the majority of her face. Her mother was a ridiculous woman, she noted for what had to be the hundredth time since she lost her child bearing capabilities in her last year of school.

Even years later, her parents could not accept that Arthur still wanted to be with her after all that had happened. She didn't know if it was because they secretly blamed him for her misfortunes or if it was as her mother so blatantly told her, Arthur deserved a wife who wouldn't keep secrets from him and could give him children. Either way, Molly was done.

This had carried on far too long and it was time to make a decision and stick with it. If she didn't, Molly feared someday she'd end up believing what her mother and father said about her. Then, she'd no longer think she was good enough for Arthur and that he really did deserve someone better than her.

(But of course he did, she had lied, she had killed his baby and ruined his chances of ever having another by accepting his engagement ring…)

"Have you ever considered, Mum, that he loves me more than he cares for having children?" Molly demanded with only the slightest quiver to her voice.

The clinking of dishes going into the sink was all the answer Molly got. When done with her toes, she cast a quick drying charm on them and slipped her shoes back on before she stood up from the table and looked around the sage room one last time.

This was the kitchen she'd grown up in. The one where she played tea party with her mother and brothers, where she learned how to make the perfect pie and learned the Prewett secret for their Pork Loins. This is where she and her father discussed politics before her troubles in seventh year and where she and her brothers ate all their breakfasts and some of their lunches in the summertime. This was the kitchen that had always felt like warmth and safety as a little girl when the rest of the world had seemed so frighteningly cold and dangerous.

But not anymore.

Clearing her throat, Molly declared airily, "Anyway, it doesn't really matter what you think. Arthur's feelings and opinions are all I care for. I just thought I'd let you know the wedding is next Saturday and you're welcome to come if you like, but if you don't want to… Well, that's your choice.