Weasley Family Fallout

Chapter 46: Midnight Meeting

Molly sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her husband's hair. "Arthur, dear, you need to wake up," she murmured. She'd tried every five minutes since a quarter 'til eleven with no luck, but after a minute or two this time, he finally woke up.

He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "You're not going to tell me that was all a horrible dream, are you?" he mumbled.

"I'm afraid not," she said sadly. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got trampled by a Hippogriff." He rolled over onto his back with a groan. "What time is it?"

"Eleven."

"Shite," he cursed under his breath as he sat bolt upright.

Molly put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from jumping up. "There's no rush. Alexander isn't back yet and no one minds waiting. They all know you're not feeling well."

Stars dazzled before his eyes and a sharp pain shot through his chest. He winced.

"What is it? Do I need to send Alexander a Patronus?" she asked, her voice betraying how worried she was.

Arthur shook his head. "I think it's residual."

"Promise you'll tell me if it lingers."

He looked her in the eye. "It's already gone."

He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Molly rubbed his back while he rubbed his eyes.

"Why did I decide to do this tonight?"

"Because there's no other time unless you want to do it while you're in hospital, and if you waited, you know there would be a lot more questions that would be a lot harder to put off."

He pulled his shirts off over his head at the same time and tossed them onto the foot of the bed. Looking down, he studied his scars and traced one with his finger. Even though Alexander had healed them, they stood out stark against his skin. They had faded over the years, but now they had returned to their appearance in the months following the attack. Molly placed a hand on top of his and pulled it down into his lap, successfully drawing his attention away from the marks.

"They don't matter," she whispered, gazing into his blue eyes.

He couldn't make himself agree with her. Just when he thought he might be able to reach a point where he wasn't so self-conscious about them and he wasn't reminded of the attack every time he took his shirt off, he had to start all over. "I'm gonna get cleaned up," he said just as quietly before leaving Molly sitting on the bed alone.

With only the cold tap running, he stuck his head under the water in the sink. A gasp escaped his lips. He used the hand soap to wash his hair and face since he wanted to make a quick job of it. The cold water woke him up more. He turned off the tap and grabbed his hand towel. After roughly drying his hair and face, he saw himself in the mirror for the first time since the episode.

His drawn, pale face contrasted greatly with his red hair and the dark circles under his eyes. The amount of wrinkles seemed to have tripled. Bloodshot eyes reminded him of the months he had wasted drinking, but he knew they weren't red because of alcohol this time. Before he had much longer to dwell, Moly appeared in the doorway.

"Even if I make it another twenty-seven years like they initially said, this thing's gonna age me," he said, his voice rough.

She almost rebutted that he only thought that because of how tired he was, but then had to admit he had a point. "It makes sense that it would do that," she said softly. "It puts a lot of stress on your body."