Yea, shoot me. Yet again, this is not a Dueling update. I AM working on a chapter for that, but this idea came to be out of the blue and well, the plot bunny calls and I answer. Hope you guys enjoy a less common pairing from yours truly. I chose to do this one in a bit of an odd format...meaning that the segments are not of equal length. Some are really short, some are longer. None of them are more than a few paragraphs in length. I wanted to just cover 'moments' over the course of four years. Happy reading! (And reviewing!)

- And here is me writing a sentence about nothing because I was only a few words short of hitting the 5k mark. *giggle*

Molly Weasley sat numbly in the waiting room at St. Mungo's. Her youngest child and only daughter had admitted a few hours ago, and from what the Mediwitch had said, she would not be leaving anytime soon, if ever. Ginny had been possessed by a dark curse of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named during her first year at Hogwarts. By the time anyone realized, it was too late. Her soul had been nearly sucked away, and while she was still breathing on her own, she was left in a coma-like state until such a time came when her soul could be recovered, which was probably never. The Administrator of St. Mungo's had offered to humanly euthanize Ginny, but Molly refused to give up what little hope she had left that her daughter would ever be returned to her.

Hermione Granger sat quietly in the kitchen of the Burrow sipping tea. It was late, and everyone who was here right now was asleep; at least she thought so. Hermione's ears perked at the sound of muffled crying from the room closest to her location, which she knew was Ginny's room. Was Ginny's room, the thirteen year old thought sadly. It had been just over three months since Harry had found Ginny, unconscious in the Chambers of Secrets, inches from death. Destroying the diary of Tom Riddle had prevented Ron's little sister from dying, but the condition in which he found her there had not changed. Hermione knew that Mr. Weasley and Percy were both working all-nighters at the Ministry, and that Ron and the twins were all upstairs asleep. Harry was not set to arrive at the Burrow for a few more days, so the crying person had to be Mrs. Weasley. The teenager stood from her seat and walked over the room, opening it slowly and sighing at the sight of Mrs. Weasley curled up on Ginny's bed, crying. Hermione thought about what the woman must be going through right now, and how much she was hurting, and decided that there really were no words she could say that would make any difference. So, Hermione did the only other thing she could think to do at the moment. She walked over to the bed, crawled on behind Mrs. Weasley, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Shh," she whispered. "I'm here for you."

Molly wailed into her pillow, hoping that her outburst would not be heard. Arthur was working late, again. Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Harry and Hermione were all asleep in bed. During the day Molly could hold herself together; keeping busy helped to make her forget the pale white walls that her daughter slumbered within. It had been four months today since they'd gotten the Owl from Albus, saying that Ginny had been cursed. She reminded herself every day that it wasn't anyone's fault, other than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but still she found herself sinking deeper into a depression, and any happy thought she had seemed to mock her in Ginny's voice, leaving nothing inside her but a rage that had nowhere to go. Suddenly, the door to her bedroom creaked open, and Molly rolled over to see Hermione standing there, looking at her. Molly found herself remembering the night a few weeks ago when Hermione had found her crying in Ginny's room, and had held her as she cried. She'd felt safe in Hermione's arms, though in retrospect it was entirely inappropriate. It was not Hermione's responsibility to look after her. "Do you need something, dear?" she sniffled.

Hermione shook her head, but continued walking into the room, closing the door behind you. "I don't, but you do," she whispered.

Despite her better judgment, Molly could not turn her away.

It was Christmas break and Hermione was glad to be back at the Burrow, after having spent a week with her parents. She was anxious to see how Mrs. Weasley was doing. There was still no improvement in Ginny's condition, and from what Ron had said Mr. Weasley seemed to be working more and more to help cover the cost of Ginny's long term care. It was two days since arriving before Hermione had the chance to talk to Mrs. Weasley alone, and the opportunity came in the form of finding the older witch standing in the kitchen trying to hide the tears behind the task of washing dishes after supper. "Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Hi, Hermione," the woman sighed. "What can I do for you?"

"I wanted to see how you've been doing," Hermione replied quietly. "Doesn't look like you're doing so well, actually."

Mrs. Weasley stopped washing, and turned around to face Hermione, leaning against the sink. "This past summer, while I appreciate it Hermione," she said quietly, "it really was inappropriate. It's not your responsibility to…"

"If I don't, who will?" Hermione asked, cutting her off. "The person who should be holding you while you cry isn't here."

Mrs. Weasley looked at the floor. "It's not right, Hermione," she said, and Hermione knew that she was talking about more than just the appropriateness of her being the one to comfort the older woman. It wasn't right what happened to Ginny, or how Arthur wasn't doing enough to help her though this.

"I know," Hermione said, reaching up and brushing a tear off Mrs. Weasley's cheek with her thumb. "But it's not right for you to go through this alone, either. Let me help you. I won't tell anyone, I swear."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her uneasily, but rather than pull away, she leaned forward and rested her forehead on Hermione's shoulder, breathing raggedly as more tears began to fall.

Molly anxiously waited at the kitchen table for the arrival of a not quite fifteen year old girl whose life had just been turned upside down – a feeling that Molly knew well. Two weeks into the summer break between her third and fourth years at Hogwarts, Hermione had come home from a friend's house to find her parents dead. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been murdered by Death Eaters, though the muggle authorities would report it as a robbery gone bad. Hermione was being sent to the Burrow tonight, until other arrangements could be made.

The clock chimed quarter till one in the morning when the front door opened, and Hermione stepped inside, followed by Professor McGonagall. "Molly," McGonagall said, "I leave Miss Granger in your care. I shall be in touch within a few days; as soon as the muggles sort out who will have custody of her now."

"She could live here," Molly offered sincerely, feeling a stab of guilt as it occurred to her that Hermione could have Ginny's old room.

McGonagall smiled tiredly. "Miss Granger has family in the muggle world that her parents already indicated she was to live with if something happened to them. It's really down to just sorting the paperwork. The muggle Police are under the impression that I work for Social Services and that Miss Granger is being temporarily housed in in a foster home."

"I see," Molly said, frowning, glancing at Hermione pale face. "Well goodnight then, Minerva."

"Goodnight, Molly," McGonagall replied, making her exit with a sad smile toward her favorite pupil.

"I don't want to talk about it," Hermione stated as soon as the door closed behind the Deputy Headmistress.

"I didn't imagine you would," Molly replied, taking Hermione's hand and leading her towards her own bedroom. "But it seems to me that I owe you a shoulder to cry on."

Hermione looked at Molly, uncertainty in her eyes. "I thought you said…"

"I won't tell, either," the older witch said, thinking about their conversation the Christmas before and pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "Perhaps we were meant to help each other."

On one hand, Hermione was exceedingly grateful for the support Mrs. Weasley was being right now. Her parents were dead, and while she knew that everyone assumed, probably even the Weasley matriarch herself, that Molly was stepping into the role of mother now that Hermione's own mother was…gone.

Wait a minute, Hermione chastised herself. When exactly had Mrs. Weasley become 'Molly'?

Hermione put her head down on the kitchen table and silently reprimanded herself for the feelings she had begun to develop for the older witch. How the bloody hell had she developed a crush on her best friend's mum? It wasn't even a cliché! She wasn't spending nights thinking about what it would be like to kiss her teacher; Hermione was spending nights thinking about how on earth she could get away with shagging her best friend's mum and not lose all the people she cared for most in the process!

"I need my head examined," Hermione muttered under her breath as her heart leaped when Molly walked into the room a moment later.

Molly was trying her best to be there for Hermione as she grieved the loss of her parents. While Hermione's aunt and uncle through her father now had technical custody of her, after being informed that she was a witch they agreed to let Hermione stay with the Weasley family until school began again, and they would see her at Christmas. However, for some reasons Molly wasn't sure of, Hermione seemed to be avoiding the older woman. She didn't want to seem pushy, so she let the girl do as she wanted, while still keeping a close eye on her. However, to make matters more bazaar, Molly kept catching Hermione staring at her, and then blushing like mad when caught in the act. What the bloody hell did that mean?

Hermione had spent the first two and a half months coming up with a very good reason why she should stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas break. Her parents were dead, so there was no home to go to. Her feelings for Molly were growing by leaps and bounds, so she didn't really want to be at the Burrow, and she really, really didn't want to go back to her aunt and uncle's place.

For as long as she could remember, Hermione's uncle had been molesting her whenever a chance came up. It stopped for the most part when she started Hogwarts, because when she was home for the holidays she spent all her time with her parents. Now, she was going to have to live with the bastard. Hermione remembered the moment she realized what he was doing to her was wrong. It had been shortly after starting her second year at Hogwarts, when her mum had sent her a sex education book. The opening line of the book was "Sex is the consensual agreement between two adults to be physically intimate with each other." Right then, Hermione had thought about how many times she'd told her uncle she didn't want to 'do that', and he'd told her she had to, that it was the rules. Also she thought about the 'two adults' part of things, and knew then and there what he'd done to her was wrong. She'd read the rest of the book and figured out that what he was doing was called molestation. She'd vowed to herself that if he ever did it again, she'd tell her parents, and the authorities. Since then, she'd not seen him at all, but now she was to go live with him.

Simple solution: Hermione would put her name on the list of people staying at Hogwarts over Christmas break. It's not like her aunt or uncle knew anything about Owl post or how to get to Hogwarts. She'd be safe here, for now. As for what to do about summer, well, she'd figure that out later.

Molly forced a smile on Christmas morning as her children opened their gifts. She planned to go to St. Mungo's later on today to visit Ginny, and knew she'd spend tonight in tears because of it. The Weasley matriarch knew she was depressed; all the signs were there. She was eating less, drinking more, and found it impossible to find true joy in anything she did. The only happiness that she felt anymore was flutter in her chest that came when she walked by Ginny's bedroom door and thought of Hermione. Molly had no idea when Hermione had become more than just her son's friend, but she had. What exactly that more was, she didn't know. The only theory that she had was that she was developing romantic feelings for the teenager, but that was absolutely insane. No way. Not a chance. Even if by some crazy fluke of the universe she was, nothing would ever come of it anyway. She'd never betray Hermione's trust like that.

Molly gulped as she suddenly realized she was more concerned about potentially breaking Hermione's trust than she was about breaking her marriage vows to Arthur. Shit, she thought to herself.

Hermione sighed in relief as she side-along-apparated from her uncle's house Number Four Grimmauld Place. This was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – the secret society formed by Dumbledore to fight against Voldemort. The Weasley's had moved here this summer after the Burrow had been targeted by Death Eaters.

As she had been unable to get out of spending the greater part of summer break at her uncle's house, she had as predicted, been subject to his proclivities again. Hermione shuddered as she thought of her first night there, and how her uncle had come to her room. He didn't just molest her this time. He raped her. Hermione was no longer a virgin. Despite her promise to herself that she would speak up if he ever touched her again, his threat to never let her go back to Hogwarts if she told anyone had sealed her lips. She did what she could to avoid him, but her aunt worked nights and a few times a week her uncle came into her room and had his way. After the second time had resulted in a black eye, she'd given up even fighting him when he came into the room.

Now inside the old Black family house, Hermione set her stuff down in the room she'd been assigned and contemplated taking a shower. She did that a lot these days. She knew that scrubbing her body would not change the disgusting things her uncle had done, but it made her feel clean, if only for a minutes or two. Suddenly there was a rap on the door. "Come in," she called.

The door opened and Molly stood there with a smile on her face. "Hi," she whispered.

Hermione's jaw hit the floor. It had been a year since she'd seen Molly, and in that year the older woman had lost a considerable amount of weight. Hermione eyed each and every perfect curve that had become Molly's body with awe.

"It's not polite to stare, Hermione," Molly chided.

Hermione closed her mouth. "Sorry, I was just surprised. You look great, Molly."

If Molly did not approve of the use of her first name by the nearly sixteen year old, she made no show of it. "Thanks," she said. "You look good yourself. How's living with your aunt and uncle going?"

Hermione looked at the floor. "It's fine," she mumbled. "Still adjusting."

Molly nodded, and Hermione knew that she thought she understood, but she didn't. She couldn't. And that was how it had to stay.

Molly could not believe herself. Or Hermione for that matter! The two of them had gaped at each other like a couple of kids the other day. Okay, fine, Molly admitted to herself, stealing a glance at the beautiful young woman that Hermione had blossomed into. A year really had done a lot, changing a girl into a young woman. I fancy her. And I'm fairly certain she fancies me.

She had no idea what she was going to do about this. She was old enough to be Hermione's mum. Hermione was not even legally an adult yet. She was married. Hermione was her son's friend. In fact she was almost positive that Ron fancied Hermione quite a bit. Awkward…

So what to do?

Absolutely nothing, Molly said firmly to herself.

Hermione had showered and gotten into her nightclothes when she heard a light rap at her door. She looked at the clock, seeing that it was almost midnight, and wondered who it could be. The soon to be sixteen year old walked over to the door and opened it, and was surprised to see Molly standing there, in her own nightclothes. "Can I come in for a bit?" she whispered.

Hermione nodded and granted Molly access, closing the door behind her. By the time she turned around, Molly had already sat down on the double bed. The craving to have Molly's arms around her doubled at the sight, and so Hermione said nothing as she moved over and sat down next to the older woman. "What's up?" she asked.

Molly tenderly stroked Hermione's cheek. "I miss you, Hermione," she admitted. "More that I should."

Hermione let out a bitter laugh. "I know the feeling," she replied quietly, nuzzling Molly's hand, and then pulling away and laying on the empty side of the bed. She was not surprised when Molly lay down as well, facing her. Their noses were almost close enough to touch as they settled on top of the blanket side by side.

"There is something very wrong with this picture," Molly said after a moment, "but I can't help wanting to be here. I actually feel happy when you're near, and that's such a rare feeling for me anymore."

Hermione's heart beat wildly. She had come to terms with her feelings for Molly over the summer, and it was painfully obvious now that Molly felt something too. However, this was probably the closest they would get to confessing those feelings to each other while Hermione was still underage. On the other hand, this moment had been three years coming, and the younger witch fully intended on taking advantage of the moment. If Molly hadn't wanted her to, she would not have come here tonight.

She reached out her hand slowly and lay her hand on Molly's waist, gently tugging the older woman toward her. Molly shifted her position closer to Hermione inch by inch, never breaking eye contact, until their bodies were pressed together, and their legs were semi entwined. "Hold me," Hermione whispered.

Molly reached up and began raking her fingers through Hermione's hair, and after a moment, her hand began to trail down the back of the younger woman's neck, into the bare skinned shoulders. Hermione shuddered, goosebumbs forming as an announcement of her arousal.

Hermione moved her own hand back to Molly's waist, slowly slipping her hand under the older woman's shirt, and beginning to caress the smooth, pale skin beneath it. "What are we doing?" Molly moaned, pelvis involuntarily thrusting into Hermione's thigh.

"If you didn't already know that answer," Hermione replied while raising her thigh to meet Molly's movements, "then you wouldn't have come here tonight."

Molly said nothing, but pressed her face into Hermione's shoulder and pulled the younger woman tightly. Hermione fell asleep some time later, still wrapped up in Molly's embrace. When she woke the next morning, Molly was gone, and the rush to get to King's Cross for the Hogwarts Express was upon them. Hermione caught Molly's hand just before getting on the train. "Christmas?" she asked.

A gentle smile graced Molly's lips, and with a nod, Hermione let go of her hand and boarded the train.

Christmas arrived and Hermione and the others were back at Grimmauld Place; a bit early, due to the attack on Arthur that Harry had seen in his dreams. Arthur, Molly thought to herself as she glanced over to her husband, sitting at the head of the table. Her gaze shifted toward Hermione a moment later, and she sighed as she thought about the affair she was having with the young woman. Yes, Molly had come to terms with what was happening between her and Hermione. She absently wondered when exactly the affair had begun. Was it just this past summer, when they'd lay in bed together that August night? Perhaps it had begun long before that – even as far back as the night Hermione had held her as she cried over what had happened to Ginny.

Molly knew this wasn't just a physical thing, which made it all the more terrifying. Despite all reason, and all moral standing she'd ever had, she was falling in love with Hermione Granger. A sixteen year old girl. She'd heard it said before that grief can drive a person mad, and madness certainly described what was evolving between herself and the young woman at the other end of the table.

Hermione had lasted a month into the summer at her aunt and uncle's house before she'd run away, showing up on the front step of Grimmauld Place in tears. She couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't let him touch her. She'd let herself into the house, and was greeted by a very surprised Ron.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I…I couldn't…," she sputtered, trying to hold back the tears. "Is your mum here?"

Ron looked concerned, and nodded. "In the kitchen," he replied.

Hermione hurried past him and made for the kitchen. She resisted the urge to just leap into Molly's arms. "Mrs. Weasley?" she said, getting the older woman's attention.

Molly turned around, worry instantly gleaming in her eyes. "Hermione? What happened? Why aren't you at your aunt and uncle's house?"

Hermione couldn't hold it in anymore. Tears began cascading down her cheeks and a moment later, Molly had pulled her into a tight embrace. "What happened, baby?" she whispered tenderly.

"My uncle…" she began. Then she heard Ron's heavy footsteps coming towards them and flinched.

"Ron, could you give us some space?" Molly snapped.

Hermione heard Ron back out of the kitchen with what she assumed was a very confused look on his face. As soon as she couldn't hear him anymore, she continued. "I didn't want to live with them, because he used to…"

"Oh, Merlin," Molly whispered, and Hermione knew that the older witch had drawn the obvious conclusion.

"He raped me," Hermione whispered, burying her face in Molly's shoulder. "Over, and over, and over again."

"Oh Hermione," Molly said tenderly. "I am so, so sorry."

Molly lay in bed with Hermione, quietly watching the younger woman sleep. It had been a month since the crying sixteen year old had showed up at Headquarters, running away from her sexually abusive guardian. On the nights that Arthur was pulling all-nighters, Molly had begun to consistently join Hermione in bed, always leaving before morning. No one saw her go in, and no one saw her leave, though at this point nothing had happened between she and Hermione beyond what had happened in August. Less, actually. At this point Hermione was still recovering from what her uncle had done to her, and Molly was not inclined to push the boundaries of their relationship while the girl was so wounded. She merely wanted to be a comfort to Hermione on every one of those lonely nights.

Hermione would be seventeen in a few more weeks, which reminded Molly that from that day on, their relationship could progress with no legal repercussions. The repercussions otherwise would still exist loud and clear, which meant that Molly really needed to start thinking about what was going to happen next. She'd never pressure Hermione into taking their relationship further, but if Hermione wanted it, Molly knew she'd be unable to say no, just like she'd been unable to tell Hermione 'no' that very first night the then thirteen year old girl had come to her room to hold her as she cried. Somewhere in the cards, it seemed like Molly and Hermione were meant to love each other. The only question left was 'how much'?

Tomorrow they'd be heading back to Hogwarts to begin their sixth year. Hermione found herself excited about it, despite all the insanity going on around her with the war and her ever evolving relationship with Molly. Hermione was more excited about the prospect of turning seventeen in a few weeks, meaning that she'd legally be an adult, and free to engage in certain…activities…with another adult. One particular adult, in fact. Molly. It did not escape Hermione's keen mind that Molly may be unwilling to take things further, regardless of her coming of age. Molly was married. Molly had children; children who were almost all older than herself.

It was half past eleven at night, and everyone had gone to bed except for Hermione. Arthur was working all night again, and Hermione waited patiently for Molly to arrive like she always did anymore. Moments later, her door creaked open and Molly stepped inside, slipping under the covers next to Hermione without a word. Once they were settled comfortably, Hermione moved to touch Molly's face. They had not done this since last summer. There had been too many people around over Christmas to risk it, and when she'd showed up a month into this summer's break, Hermione had needed space.

"Hermione?" Molly asked carefully. "What are you doing?"

Hermione waited a few seconds, and then leaned forward and pressed her lips against Molly's. She didn't linger long; just long enough to make it clear that it was not a platonic gesture. "I'm kissing you," she whispered.

Molly licked her lips. "You are still underage, Hermione," she said.

Hermione nodded. "I know. But not for long. Next time I see you…"

"I know," Molly replied. "Just let me hold you tonight. We'll worry about the rest another day."

Hermione nodded and snuggled close to the older witch. "Goodnight, Molly," she whispered.

"Goodnight, baby," came the quiet reply.

Today was Hermione's seventeenth birthday. Today, she was an adult. Molly had spent the last few weeks trying to come up with a proper way to acknowledge the event, without anyone but Hermione being aware she was doing it. In the end, she'd decided to go to the local Owl post station, and hire an Owl to deliver a note to Hermione at Hogwarts. As far as what to say, that was easy.

"I love you", the small bit of parchment said.

Christmas break arrived and Hermione had never been so anxious to get anywhere in her entire life. Before long, she was at Grimmauld Place and up in her room. She stayed there, awake in bed, waiting for Molly to come to her. Hermione had already confirmed that Arthur was working an all-nighter, as usual, so it wouldn't be long before Molly snuck down the hall to her room. She hoped.

The door to her room creaked open a few minutes later, and the willowy figure of Molly Weasley entered the room. Hermione muttered a locking charm on the door, and a silencing charm on the door before putting her wand on her nightstand. Molly slipped into the bed a moment later, a smile playing on her lips. "Hi," she whispered.

Hermione waited a few seconds before speaking, pausing for effect. "I love you, too," she said quietly – a response to the Owl she'd gotten on her birthday which had left her grinning like an idiot for the better part of a week. Ron and Harry hadn't known what to do with her.

Molly didn't hesitate in her response to that. She moved forward quickly, capturing Hermione's lips in her own. The younger witch responded with a groan, returning the kiss with a vigor that could only have come from so many years of waiting for this moment. Her hands moved to Molly's waist and legs entwined as their tongues began to battle furiously. The first kiss had been careful and cautious. The second, this one, was a wild abandonment of every second thought either woman had ever had regarding their relationship. It was perfect. Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring, but tonight, words like fearful, cautious, and lonely just didn't exist.

I am planning a second part of this, but how far you get it depends greatly on how well received this is. Please Review!