By Author Gal
DisclaimerThis story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The art of mothering is to teach the art of living to children.
- Elain Heffner,
It was just a word, a tiny word, really. Only three letters that individually held very little significance when placed on their own.But when they were put together – oh, that word could make her heart soar!
Molly had heard it before, it was nothing new. With seven children in the house she could hardly expect to escape without hearing the word once or twice… a minute. And it wasn't as if she hadn't heard it spoken for the first time before – with each of her children she had burst into tears when they had finally put the letters together and looked up at her, grinning toothlessly and repeating "Mum, Mum, Mum" over and over as they drooled on their new jumper. Each time had been special and was locked away in the most precious part of her heart.
But this time was different.
He had been standing behind her in the kitchen for a while, watching her cook dinner for the Order, his bright green eyes following her around the room. She didn't mind, in fact she was highly relieved at having him within eyesight and quickly put him to work peeling potatoes. They worked in silence for a while, Molly's mind focused on the meal, only pausing now and then for her heart to swell with relief at having him home and safe. After a few minutes of blissful silence, she noticed Harry had stopped working. She had turned and looked at him, concerned.
He was just standing there, a pile of peeled potatoes in front of him, one hand subconsciously running through his hair, wiping potato juice all through it. His eyes were narrowed, and she could see them reflect the turbulence of his thoughts.
"Harry, dear? What's wrong?" Molly had asked, her voice gentle as she tried to wake him from his daydream. He has hesitated for a moment, opening and closing his mouth before he began to speak.
"Mum…" Harry had paused and looked away.
Smiling fondly, Molly had gone to ask him what he wanted to know about Lily when Harry had continued.
"Mum, what do you want me to do with the potatoes once I've finished with them?"
Molly had turned away and stared to tell him to peel the carrots, when she froze.
What did he just say?
Her mind spun in a frenzy as she turned and stared at Harry, who was rapidly turning pink. Her mind was screaming and her heart was doing twists as she replayed his words over and over. Finally she had found her voice. "Harry…what did you… did you just?" She wasn't able finish her sentence and instead her eyes rapidly began to fill with tears.
Harry had ducked his head bashfully. "Is that okay?" He'd asked hurriedly.
Molly hadn't been able answer, and instead burst into a flood of tears, her face buried in her hands as she stood in the middle of the kitchen and cried. Harry had quickly gone up to her and began to apologise profusely, when suddenly Molly had pulled him into a fierce, floury hug. "Oh, my dear boy, my dear, dear boy." She had sobbed, holding him tightly around the middle. "My beautiful, beautiful boy."
Mum.
It was just a tiny word, hardly significant. She'd heard it before, and she would hear it many times more. But this time, it was different, and she would cherish that moment for the rest of her life.
A/N: This short little one shot is dedicated to my friend Haley (or EMORYHOTTI1) for her wonderful and encouraging emails whilst I was sick in bed, and for her influencing me to write again. Thank you for all your reviews, darling!