Molly Weasley was sat at her kitchen table, warm tears rushing down her plump cheeks, curling off her chin and exploding on the cracked and aged wood beneath her. There was a Black Hole inside of her; gorging on all her happiness, becoming obese and leaving her alone with the darkness within.
She was too weak too fight against it.
She’d fought some of the worlds most evil and dangerous Dark Wizards, but the old Witch could not fend back the cool grasp of depression. The loss of her son had broken her, more than the loss of her brothers. No parent should live to see their child dead, to bury them, to mourn them.
Guilt swamped through her veins. She wished she had paid more attention to George and Fred’s wacky ideas, but having five other children kept her busy and the last thing she needed was items that would explode or injure. She wished she hadn’t scolded Fred as much as she had. She wished he was still alive.
But wishing can’t change the past.
Since his painful death, Molly was frightened to let any of her children out of her sight. If she lost another person, it would kill her, maybe not physically, but mentally.
So, at eight o'clock, Molly was staring bitterly at the clock on her wall, the nine - no eight spoons separated. Ron had told her that he, Hermione and Harry would be home at seven and an hour had passed.
Who knew what could happen in an hour.
She’d lost Fred in under an hour.
Molly shook her head. She couldn’t let thoughts like that in, she had to put her barrier up, to protect herself. They were probably just delayed, that’s all. Nothing else, no death or murder or pain. Just a delay, not looking at the clock, getting distracted. All mundane things.
The pop of Apparation and the dropping of heavy bags made her spin around, wand grasped in her hand.
‘You said you’d be home an hour ago!’ she began, her voice rising into a shrill,’ I was worried, I was so worried, didn’t I tell y-’ she broke off as she glanced at the trio.
Ron’s hair was longer than usually, his shoulder slumped. His face pale and eyes shadowed. Hermione had puffy, red eyes, fingers entangled with Ron’s as she sniffled and Harry - oh Harry.
A pile of several bags were sprawled on the ground next to him, his face was red and tear streaked, hair messier than usually and in his arms a bundle of blankets. Within the cotton wrap was a squirming infant, hands pawing at they’re facing as they slept peacefully. And upon the baby’s small head, was a clump of turquoise blue hair.
Molly gasped, gripping onto the table behind her for support.
‘We, we. I - well,’ Ron started, stopped and jerked his head towards the child.
‘But…Harry! You’re just a child yourself! You’re only seventeen!’ The plump Witch’s eyes were glued to the little bundle. His blue hair gave him away as the son of the poor Nympadora Tonks and Remus Lupin and the aching in Molly’s heart grew stronger.
‘He’s my Godson,’ was all Harry muttered as he looked down at little Teddy, cradling him gently.
‘Harry, you can’t! You need rest, not a baby to watch after! Andromeda can look after him,’
Harry’s head shot up like a meerkat,’ She doesn’t want him,’
Molly fell silent, suddenly realizing why the trio were so sullen and down. She desperately wanted to reach out and grab Harry, pull him into a hug and never let go. The poor boy had been through too much, he shouldn’t have the stress of a young child too - it wasn’t fair.
‘She says he looks like Remus and Tonks too much,’ Ron murmured softly.
‘Well that’s ridiculous! I swear, I have never had a problem with Meda until now, wait here until I go give that Witch a piece of my mind! Palming her grandson on a teenager!’
The sudden anger in Harry’s voice froze Molly’s movements.
‘He’s my Godson! Remus and Tonks chose me, I will not let them down. I don’t want Teddy going back to Andromeda, look at me, what happened to me when I was left with people who didn’t want me. I would hate myself if Teddy went through that,’ Harry croaked,’ I’m the only person here that will understand what he’ll go through, he needs me and - and I need him,’
The room was silent as Harry inhaled sharply. Molly watched as Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
‘And I thought that you of all people would understand. You, who took me in, treated me like your own. I want to do that with Teddy, whether you agree or not!’
The prick of tears woke Molly from her shocked state and she glanced back at Harry, a smile on her face,’ Come here dear, let me look at him,’