"Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?" —Molly Weasley, HBP, p93

Molly Weasley sat in her favorite chair, knitting another wee Weasley jumper. She didn't have use for it just yet, but it would only be a few more months.

Behind her, the clock that kept track of all her chicks whirred faintly. She couldn't know precisely where everyone was anymore, of course, but the clock still let her know when all and sundry were home in their own spaces. All but Fred's, which hung limply from the center; but Molly didn't like to think about that.

A soft noise from the clock caused her to glance up from her work. It was late, and she knew Arthur was asleep in bed. Vague curiosity had her wondering which of the others had ventured out at this hour of the night.

Just as she logged mild surprise that it was Ginny's hand pointing to "Travelling," Molly heard the distinct crack of Apparition in the front garden. She peeked through a gap in the curtains, and sure enough, Ginny was coming up the walk.

Molly considered for a moment. Ginny hadn't flown, which was, in itself, not surprising. Nights were still chilly, even so late in April. Yet Ginny hadn't used the Floo, either, for which Molly only had two possible explanations. She reasoned that it was likely a combination of both.

Instead of entering, Ginny stood on the stoop, appearing to deliberate. Twice she reached out to grasp the door handle, only to withdraw her hand. Eventually, she sat down with her back to the door.

Molly resumed her knitting, but she kept half an eye on the stoop. Ginny would come in when she was ready.

Ginny felt foolish sitting at her parents' door at that hour, refusing to go in. She leaned back and sighed.

She longed to be back at Harry's, wrapped in his arms, his comforting warmth all around her. In fact, if she wanted to, she could simply Apparate there now. It wasn't as though he'd told her she needed to go see her mum; he'd said it was up to her. Unlike Hermione, who would have had all sorts of bossy advice about it had she known. Ginny could almost hear Hermione saying they could keep it quiet, but Molly would be angry when she worked things out for herself and discovered no one had told her. Ron probably would have just hexed Harry.

Naturally, that was why they had chosen to hold off telling the pair of them until after the wedding.

Ginny steeled her resolve; it was time to go in. She stood up, but it was a little too quick. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit, and she tried to steady herself. It was no use. She leaned over and sicked up into the shrubbery.

Molly watched as Ginny retched into the rose bushes. Having confirmed her suspicion, she decided it was time to put the kettle on. She rose from her chair and padded into the kitchen.

While she set the water on and waited for Ginny, Molly reflected that she wasn't surprised. Dark times, war and threats of war, and loss of loved ones drove people to seek comfort any way they could. She smiled, remembering how she and Arthur had done the same thing. The first war hadn't quite begun in earnest, but there were a number of people gathering intelligence and trying to undermine Dark activity. Her brothers had been among them.

Just after finishing at Hogwarts, Molly had stayed with them for a time. Arthur, who had been a year ahead of her, had been taking messages back and forth and delivering supplies. It was on one of those nights when he'd delivered food stores that they'd found themselves alone for the first time since school.

They'd done what many young couples faced with fear of the unknown do: they sought refuge in each other. As they lay on Molly's bed tangled together, they had moved heatedly forwards, shedding half their wardrobe and running eager hands over one another. When Arthur had reached for the waistband of her lacy knickers, Molly had giggled and said, "Is this the part where I'm supposed to protest and pretend I don't want to, and you're supposed to try and convince me anyway?"

He'd looked at her with such love and replied earnestly, "Oh, Mollywobbles, I don't think anyone could convince you to do something you didn't really want."

That first time had been desperate, rushed, and a bit awkward. Their time alone was rare and limited, and they had been so afraid someone would discover them. It had taken several tries to get good at it. By then, Molly had already discovered she was pregnant.

Ginny finally opened the door and entered the house. She heard muffled sounds in the kitchen and made her way there, still a bit shaky from her bout of vomiting.

When she arrived in the kitchen, Molly looked up and smiled. "Tea, dear?" she asked.

Ginny merely nodded and dropped into a chair. Her mother plunked a steaming cup in front of her. She fiddled with the handle, staring into the dark liquid and wondering how to explain things to her mother. In truth, she wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. Well, naturally she knew the mechanics; she just didn't know why. They'd been doing their best to prevent it, after all.

After school, she'd stayed at home for another year during Quidditch trials. Once she'd been offered a place with the Harpies, she'd moved into Hermione's flat. Not that the pair of them ever spent much time there. Ron had been living with Harry at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The women might as well have lived there too, and that was the plan after the double wedding in June. The house was large enough that two couples could easily share space.

Naturally, they'd gotten up to exactly what one might expect. Ginny still giggled at the memory of their first time. Harry had barely been able to get through asking her about 'protection', and he'd gone beet-red when she'd produced a condom.

"Do wizards really use those too?" he'd asked, wide-eyed.

She'd laughed and said she didn't know about other wizards, but she had enough older brothers to assure her it was the best way. George had offered her novelty charmed ones, but she'd declined on the grounds that she didn't know what they were charmed to do.

Harry had been endearingly nervous, and he'd let Ginny take the lead. She'd had a little fun with her suddenly-shy boyfriend by slowly taking off her clothes and twirling for him, loving the way he was both eager and embarrassed. He had been so gentle with her and so attentive, as though he wanted to get every detail just perfect.

That first time had been hesitant and needy and a bit awkward. Making love with each other had been part of their healing—what they couldn't say with words, they could say with lips and hands and heated joining of their bodies in the dark. It had taken several tries to get good at it. By then, they'd been ready to open up about their shared grief.

Ginny shook her head a little to rouse herself from the memories. She looked up at her mother and drew her lower lip between her teeth.

Molly could see the strain on Ginny's face and the anxiety in her eyes. She decided to make this as easy on her daughter as possible.

"How far?" she asked.

Ginny's mouth fell open. "I—" Her cheeks flamed. "How did you know?"

"In another twenty years, you'll be able to answer that question yourself. Now, are you going to tell me how far along you are?"

"Maybe five weeks." She cringed, but then she narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you lecturing me?"

Molly sighed and pursed her lips. Not one of her children had ever questioned their parents' story. The closest anyone had come was when Bill and Fleur had announced their engagement. Even then, she'd been able to dismiss them with claims about the uncertainty of war.

When Molly's silence had stretched to nearly a full minute, Ginny said, "Mum? What's going on?"

Molly decided a little honesty couldn't hurt between a mother and her daughter.

"What I say to you doesn't leave this kitchen."

Ginny stared at her mother. Her heart sped up. What terrible thing was she about to say that could possibly overshadow any ire she would normally have? "Okay, Mum."

Molly expelled a long, shaky breath. "Your father and I just celebrated our thirtieth anniversary."

Ginny, who had just been about to take a sip of her tea, set the cup back down in confusion. "Mum, I don't think you're old enough to start forgetting things already. We did that two years ago."

"That's what we told all of you, yes. Of course, that would've meant we were married before I left Hogwarts."

"Okay," Ginny replied. "It's really only been thirty years. So what?"

Molly huffed. "So, Bill is thirty-one," she explained in the sort of patient voice one uses with a particularly dim child.

"Oh," Ginny replied. It clicked. "Ohhhh."

"Right. How can I be angry with you, when I did the same thing?" Molly sipped her own tea. "It's remarkable that it took so long."

"Mum!" Ginny wasn't sure if her mother was referring to the sex or the pregnancy; either way, she was suddenly too warm.

"Besides, you'll be married in a few weeks' time. And to our Harry!" Molly beamed. "What does he think of this?"

Ginny smiled, recalling Harry's reaction. "He's over the moon."

"Good." Molly turned serious. "And you?"

Ginny's smile slid away. "I don't know," she confessed. "I thought we'd have more time, I suppose. I'm not sure I'm ready."

"No one ever is." Molly reached over and squeezed Ginny's hand. "What about the others? Do they know?"

"We haven't said anything. Hermione will realise it, of course. The trick is to keep Ron in the dark until after we're married. I'd like to avoid any and all hexing until after the wedding, thanks."

Molly chuckled. "Wise." She paused. "So that will bring us up to—" she counted on her fingers, rattling off the names of her grandchildren, "—six, by the time this one's born."

Ginny finished her tea. She was surprised at how well Molly had taken the news, though perhaps she shouldn't have been. She wondered how none of them had ever questioned their parents' story before. Even Ginny had been able to work out that Tonks was pregnant before she and Remus got married, and Harry had worked out the same for his own parents. She shook her head. Perhaps it was easier not to think of one's parents as people.

Once she had set her cup by the sink, Ginny said, "I should get home."

"Of course." Molly rose from the table and wrapped Ginny in a firm hug. "Come round any time you like, dear."

"I will, Mum."

Outside, the night was clear and cool. Ginny stared up at the stars, gently placing one hand on her belly. After a few minutes, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and Apparated away.

A/N: I didn't want to spoil the story by posting this at the beginning. I've often wondered how many of the characters were preggers before getting married because the timing is just SO off. They all had honeymoon babies? Really? JKR has said that her math isn't good (a ton of her dates for people's birth/death are also really, really off). My math, on the other hand, is pretty darn good, and spouse is a mathematician. I worked the numbers and figured out exactly how this scenario would be possible. Yeah, I'm a full-blown nerd.