VI. Arthur

11:00 p.m.

"Al and Rose are Gryffindors," Molly announced, as she walked into hers and Arthur's bedroom, her nose buried in a scroll of parchment. "And James and Freddie have already earned their first detention of the year for blowing up half the toilets in the seventh floor lavatory. Apparently, they were in the process of smuggling a toilet seat up to the Owlery when Filch caught them."

Arthur looked up from the newspaper he was reading in bed, trying and failing to keep his amusement out of his expression. "That must be some sort of a record, don't you think? I don't think even Fred and George managed to get detention on their first day back."

"No, but Gideon and Fabian did," Molly said, pursing her lips. "Remember the train ride to Hogwarts in our sixth year? The two of them transfigured a bunch of chocolate frogs into real frogs and set them loose in our compartment."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head, and Molly sighed heavily. Setting the letter she had been reading down on her bedside table, she pulled back the bedcovers and slid into bed next to Arthur, using her wand to turn out the bedroom lights. Reflexively, Arthur tucked the Evening Prophet under his pillow, reaching out and wrapping an arm around his wife as she snuggled into his side.

"Who was the letter from?" Arthur murmured, after a few moments of comfortable silence. "It's a bit late for the kids to be writing, isn't it?"

"Minerva," Molly explained. "She's written every September since Freddie and James started Hogwarts. I think she's still in denial about them."

Arthur smiled, gently stroking Molly's hair. "Perhaps," he said quietly. "Or perhaps she's just as stunned and grateful as we are to be able to witness our family grow."

There was a small pause, and Arthur felt Molly's arm tighten around him slightly.

"Speaking of denial, though," Arthur continued, grinning in the darkness. "Have you spoken to Bill today?"

Arthur felt Molly's eyebrows furrow against his shoulder. Then, he heard a rustle of blankets as she sat up in bed and looked at him. "No—what happened?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about," Arthur breezed. "He might just be having a spot of trouble adjusting to the news that his dear daughter has been in a committed, secret relationship with a certain Metamorphmagus since Christmas."

Molly snorted, shaking her head as she relaxed against her pillows again. "That boy has always been rather stupid about his daughters," she quipped.

Arthur laughed. "Come now, Molly, dear, it's always hard to watch your children grow up."

"It's far better than having to watch them grow up too quickly—or else not grow up at all," Molly pointed out, her voice constricting slightly, and Arthur's heart gave a painful twinge. He blinked, and for a moment, Fred's handsome face, youthful and laughing, flashed across his eyes.

Arthur lay in silence for several minutes, his heart and mind racing. Then, finally, he cleared his throat.

"Mollywobbles?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Would you like to go for a walk?"

There was a long pause as Molly considered this. Then, she shifted around in Arthur's arms so she was facing him. Through the darkness of their bedroom, Arthur could just make out her wary frown.

"Where?" she asked slowly.

Arthur grinned.

"I don't know that I've ever been here at night before," Molly said mildly, as, hand-in-hand, she and Arthur walked down Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, which—for the only time in Arthur's memory—was completely devoid of both steam and people. The platform looked rather forlorn, but also strangely beautiful without the presence of the enormous Hogwarts Express in its midst.

"Nor have I," Arthur replied, pausing in the middle of the platform and smiling at Molly. It had taken a great deal of convincing on Arthur's part for his wife to consent to leaving the Burrow so late at night for a mysterious adventure to an undisclosed location—and when Arthur had apparated her to King's Cross Station, her shock and disbelief had known no bounds.

But now, she looked quite calm as she stood opposite Arthur in the middle of the so-familiar platform, smiling back at him as she gave his fingers a warm squeeze. Stepping forward, Arthur gently placed his other hand under her chin and tilted her face upwards slightly so their gazes locked.

"Happy anniversary," he whispered.

Molly's eyebrows shot up her forehead.

"Arthur, sweetheart, you've always been a barmy one, but this is a stretch, even for you," she said in an amused, incredulous tone. "Our anniversary is in November."

Arthur smiled. "I wasn't talking about our wedding anniversary," he said, shaking his head. "I meant—fifty years ago today, you and I rode the Hogwarts Express to school together for the last time."

Molly's mouth fell open. Blinking rather rapidly, she drew back from Arthur and looked slowly around at the platform.

"Fifty years," she murmured.

"Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?" Arthur asked lightly.

Molly smiled furtively at Arthur. "You proposed to me that day."

Arthur nodded. "And you refused."

Molly turned and shot him a stubborn, indignant look over her shoulder that was so reminiscent of her seventeen-year-old self that Arthur's heart skipped several beats.

"I didn't refuse, Arthur," Molly told him firmly. "I just told you to ask me again when neither of us was quite so dependent on our parents." She paused, lifting her chin. "I already knew by that point that I was going to marry you, you know—whether my parents approved or not."

Arthur felt a little jolt of exhilaration at Molly's resolute tone, so familiar was it to him. He watched as she turned and walked a little ways further down the platform.

"So much happened here," she said quietly, pausing again in her tracks. Raising her hand, she pointed at a spot, several feet away. "Right there—that's where Bill got off the train after his seventh year and told me he was moving to Egypt."

Arthur swallowed, walking slowly down the platform to join Molly. Pointing at a nearby rubbish bin, Arthur said, "Charlie tried to toss his exam scores in that dustbin after his fourth year, but I caught him."

Molly gave a strangled laugh. "I remember that—Percy tipped us off, didn't he?"

"Charlie nearly boxed his ears," Arthur said, shaking his head. "They didn't speak for half the summer."

The two of them lapsed into a lingering silence, as the memories settled between them like a haze.

Then, Molly cleared her throat. "Over there," she said, her voice catching slightly as she gestured towards the other end of the platform, "is where the twins told me that the poor, lonely boy that we'd helped onto the platform was Harry Potter."

Arthur's heart gave a little start in his chest. "I bet Ginny was beside herself when she heard," he murmured, smiling.

Molly giggled and nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. "She wanted to get on the train to see him." She paused, swallowing heavily. "You know, she cried that day, watching all her brothers leave, and—and George—he—" she broke off, shaking her head. "He promised to send her a Hogwarts toilet seat."

Arthur burst out laughing. "So, that's where Freddie and James got the idea."

Molly turned around to face Arthur, frowning confusedly. Then, slowly, her eyes widened, as comprehension dawned on her.

"Oh, no," she groaned, covering her eyes. "You don't…you don't think George put them up to it, do you?"

"Remind me to put a pillow and blanket out on the couch for him tomorrow night," Arthur said lightly. "Somehow, I get the impression that Angelina wasn't in on the plan."

Molly shook her head, leaning into Arthur's shoulder. Still smiling, Arthur slipped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.

They stayed that way for several minutes, the muggy, evening air settling around them like a warm, thick cloak. At last, feeling pleasantly drowsy, Arthur looked down at Molly. "Shall we go home?" he asked softly.

But Molly wasn't looking at him. She was staring unblinkingly at a spot in the distance, her jaw slightly clenched.

Arthur drew back. "Molly?" he asked, frowning worriedly.

"The day after Dumbledore's funeral, when Ron and Ginny finished school," Molly whispered, "I—I came to pick them up from the station alone. Bill still wasn't well after—after Greyback, and you were at work—and the twins were on a…reconnaissance mission for Mad-Eye. They—they had just officially joined the Order."

Arthur stared at Molly, a chill of foreboding creeping into his heart.

"I...I was standing—right over there," Molly said, pointing a slightly unsteady hand in the direction of a distant brick post. "And I saw them—Ron, and Harry, and Hermione—they got off the train together. Harry looked awful, like he hadn't slept in a week—and Hermione's eyes were red—and Ron…he was standing in the middle of them—and there was this—this look in his eye…and—that's when I knew."

"Knew what?" Arthur asked hoarsely.

Molly turned around and faced him, her chin trembling. "That's when I knew…how deep we were in this—all of us," she whispered. "That not even Ginny was safe anymore—that we could do everything in our power to protect our children, but it still wouldn't be enough."

Arthur's eyes and throat stung painfully. "Molly," he whispered.

Molly shook her head, lifting a determined smile onto her face. "I don't regret it," she told him, taking his hands and squeezing them tightly. "Any of it—joining the Order, fighting…" she trailed off, her voice tapering. Pressing her lips together, she looked up and met Arthur's gaze, her bright brown eyes blazing. "Arthur, you and I…we raised seven strong, stubborn children—and I know we did the right thing, stepping back and letting them choose their own way…" She paused, swallowing. "I just…wish it didn't make me feel so—wrong."

Arthur released a shaky breath. "Me, too," he murmured, and Molly gave him a tremulous smile, before stepping forward and embracing him tightly. Arthur pulled her close, letting her warmth overwhelm his senses. There had been days—months—in the aftermath of the war that Arthur had wondered if he and Molly would ever smile again. It had taken them a long time to find a way to build the pieces back up together, rather than allowing the pieces to tear them apart. He and Molly were no longer the fresh-faced teenagers from fifty years ago, boarding the Hogwarts Express together with dreams of taking the world by storm, oblivious to the hardships that life would hurl at them, again and again. War, and loss, and grief had hurt them both in ways they were still trying to understand, but Arthur was grateful every day that they were understanding it together.

Life had to go on. Tomorrow would always come, and they would both wake up to face it, no matter what. The last fifty years had brought with them more horror and heartache than Arthur had imagined possible, but they had also given Arthur love, laughter, and the most extraordinary moments of his life. There would always be things that Arthur would wish he could change. There would always be a touch of sadness attached to certain happy memories. He and Molly—they had learned how to live again, but they weren't the same people they had been fifty years ago. They wouldn't be the same people again.

And in that moment, as Arthur held his wife close to him in the middle of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, he knew he had made peace with that.

All was well.

Author's Note:

When I first joined this website six years ago, I thought I knew what it meant to write. Stringing words together wasn't so hard. Making them sound good was just a dash of extra effort, right?

Not at all. Time and time again over the past six years, I have proved myself wrong, slowly making my way through fifty stories and changing a tiny bit more with each one. And I have you to thank for that: the lovely readers/reviewers/supporters who have flooded my inbox and heart with their thoughts, good and bad, allowing me to grow as both a writer and a person. And it has been more rewarding than I ever imagined it could be.

Thank you, J.K. Rowling, for allowing my imagination to run wild every day. Thank you, FanFiction, for six years, fifty stories, a quarter of a million words, and countless memories. And thank you, my wonderful readers, for everything else.

Love,
Ari