A/N: I had to write this in ten minutes, because the plot bunny wouldn’t leave and I was due at a party. So, review and let me know. Once I sit down again, I’ll go back and fix…
Disclaimer: If I was J.K Rowling, I would be sitting in Scotland, enjoying my fan letters and chatting with Dumbledore….but I’m not, so hand me the Kleenex please.
The healers said it would be a routine procedure. That swelling in the brain could be a result of a spell from the Battle of Hogwarts, or just from high stress from losing a son. But they said that it would be a routine procedure. I sat in the waiting room, day after day, wondering if we should go to a Muggle doctor. The healer assistants would sit with me, and family would bring me food, since I refused to be separated from you more than I had to.
Now you’re gone. They tell me that there was too much damage done to the brain, that they couldn’t do anything because you had lost massive amounts of blood. All the healers came to tell me, but only the words “We’re sorry, but your wife is dead” ran through my head.
Why hadn’t I taken you down to the lake one last time, my love? The one where I had proposed, when we were seventeen and ready to take on anything that life may bring us.
Do you remember the rocking chair that I built you when you were pregnant the first time. It was made of stained teak and was out of place with our then tidy home. You loved it anyways, and it was in that chair that all our children were nursed, kissed and read to. There’s still a scorch mark on the arm from when you had felt our daughter kick inside you. I remember that moment clearly, with your red hair shining from the light that was caught in the window, and all our boys crowded around their mum. I had knelt down and put my ear to your stomach, grinning to hear our baby girl move.
You’re gone Molly. You said you’d never leave me, in those dark nights during the wars. When all the kids were at Hogwarts or working, I’d climb into bed and wrap my arms around you, listening to you whisper those comforting words into my ear. Now, I’m the brokenhearted widower, one of the many casualties of the war. I sit either in the hospital waiting room, where I last saw you or by the lake, next to the tree that Fred ad George loved to climb. Bill and Fleur bring their little daughter, Victoire, and she and Teddy like to play in the garden you loved so much. Harry and Ginny are going to get married soon, but she misses planning the wedding with you. Ron and Hermione are helping George run the shop, and working jobs in the Ministry. Charlie’s gone off to Romania again, but he talks of building a dragon sanctuary in Scotland, among the chilly hills and swampy moors. Percy’s met a girl, who is almost a blonde version of Dorcas, from our Hogwarts days. Do you see Dorcas, Molly, wherever you are? I’m glad; you have almost fifteen years of catching up to do.
I will come soon, Mollywobbles. Once our children have their own families, and I have built each of them their own rocking chair. Once I get to tell our grandchildren the tales of their legendary grandmum, Molly. Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend-and my one and only.
Love,
Arthur.
A/N: I had the urge to write this after watching the last Grey’s Anatomy episode. Doctor meltdown, death, despaired husband…it was rather depressing. And Molly and Arthur popped into my head, and well, the plot bunny refused to leave. Review please! I will go back and edit depending on the comments.
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