Who: Charlie 2 and Molly What: Talks, emotions, unintentional crying When: After Charlie 2 gets out of quarantine Where: Fabian and Gideon's cottage Status: Complete Warnings: Language, mentions of Molly's brothers deaths
The initial thrill of being out of the room had largely worn off by the time Charlie reached the address he'd been given. The fact that he supposedly had a house here already, had, he supposed, taken care of the awkward question of whether or not he would move into the Burrow - something he'd spent more time pondering than he'd really wanted to over the past forty-eight hours. He stepped out and stared at what was almost certainly his Uncle's cottage: an oak beamed, wood shingled English cottage surrounded by Texas. Had he not had the forty-eight hours he'd just had, probably he would have found this more strange than he found it.
Instead he just shouldered the small bag he had with him, and headed up to the door, finding that his wand worked, and he could push open the fairy-tale looking wood door, and it even sort of smelled like it usually did.
"Hullo?" he called out, but there was no answer, and of course he hadn't exactly expected there to be, even though normally yelling in like that would have precipitated a grouse from Gideon about indoor voices and 'no need to wake the dead'.
Charlie stepped in and closed the door behind him and glanced around. He didn't know for certain what he was expecting, and he didn't know for certain either why this was the house he was getting and not his flat in London. This had more room, sure. Also, it was undoubtedly nicer. It also felt kind of huge to him, as well it probably should have. It might have been small for all five of the Weasley boys and two Prewett's, but it had fit all seven of them, which made it far too large for one person.
He dropped the bag on the sofa, and stepped over to the hearth, running his hand along the giant oak beam that took the place of a mantle, and he made his way through the entire house, checking every nook and cranny. It was as if, like him, the house had just been pulled from West Sussex and dropped here. Well, probably it had been. Stranger things and all that.
Forty-eight hours had not been great on him. Charlie didn't do well in forcedinactivity during the best of times, and he was pretty certain the last forty-eight hours didn't qualify as the best of times. He was still edgy, and was half hoping that his broom was in the upstairs closet, cause he really just wanted to go out and fly. But of all the things he hadn't expected, and there was a list of things he hadn't expected - starting with 'there's a timeline that's completely different from the life you've lived', and finishing with 'there's another you' - he hadn't expected to see his Mother.
Oh, she wasn't his Mum; He had to remember that. She had a little girl at home, for starters, which meant she couldn't be his Mum. But she looked just like he remembered. His memories might have been the semi-fuzzy memories of a seven year old, reinforced by increasingly fading photographs, but they were there nonetheless.
Satisfying himself that there wasn't anyone else here, just him, no Fabian, or Gideon, or Fred or George, even if all their rooms were there, and looked as they should, he bounded his way back down the narrow, crooked staircase, with the sort of enthusiasm that again, would have earned him a chide from Uncle Gideon. But Uncle Gideon wasn't here, and if he had been, he surely couldn't have begrudged Charlie the enthusiasm of being out of quarantine and having the possibility of seeing his mom for the first time in sixteen years. Surely. He probably ought to check the cupboards for food, and then if there wasn't anything (or even if there was) he'd go out and get some more. See what type of place he'd landed himself in after all.
Upon Molly's arrival to Tumbleweed she had been overwhelmed with worry over her children and Arthur. She had demanded she be sent back immediately so that she could care for her family. Then had come the explanations of how they couldn't simply send her back to her time and that she was stuck there unless the portals decided to send her back.
That had only made Molly livid.
How am I supposed to ensure my children’s safety if I'm here?! had been her retort.
She had imagined Arthur raising their young children on his own. She had imagined her only daughter growing up without a mother to guide her. In a house full of boys, Molly understood being overwhelmed and outnumbered. It had broken Molly's heart to be physically ripped away from her family. She missed Arthur most. He was her rock. The one person who knew how to redirect her when she was overly upset. She had found that exceedingly difficult to do on her own because she had been informed that Arthur wasn't in this place.
What really threw her for a loop was finding many of her children present, but fully grown adults with lives mostly independent from her. Molly was not used to not having tiny hands grabbing at her apron. She wasn't used to smaller versions of herself and Arthur not depending entirely on her. She could see her children so clearly as their young selves. She could almost touch them.
But those versions of her children weren't there. Instead, they were fully grown. At least they had settled in the Burrow. Well, most of them had. The Charlie who showed up the day after her had found residence elsewhere. It had made Molly's heart sink a little, but she didn't want to force him into the Burrow if he didn't want to be there.
Upon arrival at the address Charlie had given her, Molly stopped dead in her tracks. It was an exact replica of the cottage she had visited so many times. She hadn't been there in months. Not since… She could see her brothers so clearly.
Molly regained control over herself and marched on to the front door, holding the dish firmly in her arms. She knocked sharply on the door, half expecting one of her brothers to answer.
Charlie stopped at the sound of the rap on the door. It wasn't that he was expecting anyone exactly, but he had told a few people the address he'd been given. One of those people had been his mother. He hesitated for an instant, staring at the door as if it might open on its own if he just stared for long enough, and then, never one to stay still for very long, he bounded forward to pull the door open.
It was his mother, looking pretty much exactly how she'd looked in the pictures that they had of her and Arthur. Pictures that very well may have been in this house - he hadn't checked on that and right now it suddenly didn't seem necessary. He didn't need a photograph, and this was a lot better than a photograph, because this Molly Weasley could be hugged.
Charlie didn't stop to think about whether or not he should, or whether or not she'd be expecting it, or whether or not he should first let her put the dish in her hands down. Stopping and thinking wasn't a very Weasley thing to do, unless you were Percy, probably, and possibly Bill, and Charlie was definitely neither of them. He might not be the tallest of his brothers, both his height, and his more stocky build leant itself well to his professional choice of Quidditch, but he was still taller than his mum as he wrapped his arms around her, careful to avoid the dish as he did so.
"Mum," he breathed in, closing his eyes in part to avoid the rush of unexpected emotion in actually being able to hug her again. He'd spent forty-eight hours over-thinking things way too much, and trying to convince himself that he'd be totally cool when he did actually meet this family that was his but not, but he wasn't certain he was doing a very good job of that right now.
If there was one thing that would never, ever change about Molly Weasley it was that she would never turn away one of her children. They might make her livid at times, but Molly did not yell out of hate. It was more often than not because one of her children had done something incredibly irresponsible and dangerous. She needed additional hands to be able to count the number of times she had had to scold one of her children over some moronic thing they had done. However, she did not use such wording. Terrified. Worried. Bloodchilling. Irresponsible. Dangerous. Those were some of her most used, but never moronic. That would imply she thought her children weren’t intelligent, and she certainly didn’t believe that.
No, Molly would always welcome her children with open arms in any situation. Sometimes she needed time to cool off. The timing depended on whatever events had taken place. Something minor could be overlooked rather quickly. Molly could go from livid and raging to smiling and hugging her child in a matter of seconds. She did not keep her calm as well as Arthur could, but she rarely stayed angry at her children for very long.
As such, Molly welcomed this Charlie’s hug with a smile. “Don’t think I wouldn’t like to hug you, but this dish is a little in the way,’ she said with a little laugh. She would have tried to maneuver with one arm but it was rather heavy and she didn’t want to accidently drop it. She had every intention of making up for lost time with this Charlie, even if he hadn’t come from her reality. She made it a point to spend time with her children individually whenever she had a chance, especially if she ever believed one was feeling left out. Molly had more than enough love and comfort to spread, and she would share it with the Charlie before her.
The thing about the manners that his Uncle Gideon had tediously tried to install in Charlie and his brothers, is that they did exist. They were there. He just didn't pay much attention to them a lot of the time, cause he felt like they weren't that important, or they seemed unnecessary in the locker rooms, or it annoyed his Uncle just a little when he did ignore them. But they were there, and he wasn't completely hopeless a fact he wasn't certain his Uncle Gideon realized entirely, and as his Mother spoke he'd realized that in getting swept up in the moment he hadn't paid much attention to the dish, or what his mother was carrying. Oops.
"Oh, sorry," he pulled back, his gaze dropping to the dish she was carrying, and he couldn't help but grin as he saw it, even as he was seeing it a little blurred. He really didn't intend to start crying. It had been a while, but he wasn't going to say that either, cause she knew it. No sense in bringing that up again.
"Here, let me, uh," he reached out to take the dish and nodded his head for her to come into the house. "Come in. I'll just - kitchen. I haven't checked, but there might be tea in the cupboards. If you want?"
Molly hated to make him break the hug so soon, but she wanted to return the sentiment properly. She wasn’t one to just stand there and let someone hug her and her do nothing. It wasn’t unheard of for Molly to even kiss people’s cheeks when she was caught up in a hug. Close friends and family were very important to her and she liked making sure they knew she cared about them. Molly Weasley would always dote on those she loved, even when they were grown adults who could care for themselves.
“It’s no bother. I’d hate to drop it accidentally and ruin the meal I’d made for you,” she said, trying to seem chatty. Molly herself was having a difficult time simply being on the doorstep. It had been months back in her reality. She hadn’t returned due to fear that Death Eaters might be watching the house. Molly didn’t need her family to experience another blow by getting herself killed.
“Thank you, dear,” she said with a smile, her arms relieved as the weight was taken off of them. “Tea would be wonderful,” she agreed with a little nod. She followed him inside, looking around as they went.
Charlie nodded, feeling a little surreal about his Mum being here, in the house he'd really grown up in. Or at least, the house he remembered the most. He remembered things from the Burrow of course, he'd been seven when he'd left it, which was old enough to have real memories about the place and playing there and things with his parents. It was better than any of his younger brothers had been granted, so he couldn't complain. But this was the house he'd returned to during the summer, and the house that he'd gotten his OWL and NEWT results in, and the house he'd been living in when he'd gotten the offer from the Cannons. This was home. And from his tour it was largely as it had been the last time he'd visited his Uncle Gideon. Photos of himself and his brothers were hanging on a wall near the kitchen, and the furnishings were the same as they'd been for most of his childhood.
Entering the kitchen, he sat the dish down on the stove, and reached for a kettle to put water on. Then he went to the cupboard where the tea was usually kept and peered in. There was a cannister there with tea it seemed, so tea seemed to be a possibility. He pulled it out and turned back to look at his Mum.
"So," he didn't really know what to say suddenly put face to face with her. Where did he start on the things he wanted to tell her? He didn't want to just start babbling about things. "This is home, I guess. It came with me."
To Molly, this was her brother's home. A place she had visited so many times over the years. Both alone and with her family. The last time had been shortly before her brothers’ untimely deaths. She could still imagine her older children running through the house. After that, Molly wouldn’t risk anyone’s lives by visiting. She left that to the Order. Any will’s were taken care of outside of the home. It broke Molly heart to never visit it again, even if it was now empty. But this… there were still signs of life because it was still lived in in Charlie’s world. It didn’t make being there any easier, but she would have eventually come either way.
Molly looked over the pictures. It was strange to see her boys older. It was strange seeing her brothers as older men. All of them would always be their ages from her current timeline. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to them being older, let alone having two Charlie’s.
She finally turned to look at him again. Molly probably would have let him ramble as much as he wanted. When they were little, she let her children tell her all sorts of wild stories. She gave them her full attention because they were the most important people in the world to her, and she wanted to convey they to them by being interested in their stories. “When you said you’d been raised by my brothers, I never imagined their home would arrive with you.” She reached over and grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry you didn’t have a mother. I want to make up for lost time if you’ll let me.”
"I didn't either," he shrugged, grinned, because it was what he did. He'd gotten through most of his life by laughing off horrible things, being personable, and hoping people liked him, and usually they did. There were exceptions, and they bothered him more than he really let on about, and he really hoped his mother wasn't going to turn out to be one of those exceptions, but largely people liked him because he didn't give them a reason not to.
"It's not your fault though," and the grin faltered a bit, because he couldn't quite hold it when talking about any of that. It was forever ago - nearly sixteen years - but standing face to face with his Mum again was reminding him of how terrible that night had been. Or really the morning after the night, because he'd gone to bed thinking they'd all be going back to the Burrow for lunch the next morning and instead… "Fucking Death Eaters," he muttered instead, and then visibly winced at the probable scold of 'language' that was going to follow the statement. He'd stand by it though, they were. Even if he was going to have to try to remember not here. "That's cool, though, I mean, if you, uh, want. I know you've got other…" he waved a hand in the general direction of where he supposed the Burrow might be. It likely wasn't, but it's where it would have been if he'd actually been in England at his Uncle's house. "Family."
Molly had missed the house. It was a second home away from the Burrow for her older boys. It only made sense that this Charlie lived there when she and Arthur were gone. “It looks almost exactly like the cottage back in my timeline,” she said with a glance around. “I haven’t been back since…” her voice faded then. She didn’t think discussing that was appropriate right now. She had only ever confided her emotions over her brothers to Arthur. However, he wasn’t there and Molly would need her rock at some point.
“Language!” Molly retorted as expected. She could go from quiet to fuming in seconds. While did agreed that Death Eaters needed to be ended, Molly Weasley was not one for bad language. “There are better ways to describe them, even if that is the correct sentiment,” she said matter-of-factly. She looked in the direction he waved his hands, immediately knowing what he meant. She sighed and looked back at him, “Different timeline or not, you’re my son and I’m your mother. You deserve family and they’re yours as well. I’m not going to push you, but you should know that I want to get to know you just as I want to get to know my other children. I’ve missed a lot.” She smiled faintly, “And I understand you have, too.”
Charlie looked up and offered her a faint smile in return. He had. He suspected he didn't even entirely know how much. Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian had taken care of all of them well. And Charlie understood that even if he and his Uncle Gideon didn't always see eye-to-eye. It was easier with Uncle Fabian, and always had been, but between the two of them, Charlie had never wanted for anything. He'd known that he was loved and wanted, most of the time anyway. He suspected there were moments Gideon was frustrated by having ended up with the care of five boys, and that he would have been happy instead to simply be an Auror and focus all of his energies there. But even with that, he'd mostly felt that he could come back to this place.
He turned around to pull out a couple of mugs for tea, and ran his sleeve past his eyes to pick up the moisture that seemed to be gathering there. That done he turned back around. "Yeah, I mean, best as I can figure it though, that's just how this place operates. At least that seems to be the case." He had a sibling he didn't know, Harry Potter, who would have been the same age as Neville, Charlie was pretty certain, was closer to his age, and maybe even past it. He had a nephew, for merlin's sake. It was… definitely not what he'd anticipated. "So, yeah, we've both missed a few things, we can make up for it now," he pulled a grin back to his face, decision made, and on to the next thing.
"Uncle Gideon didn't like change much," he waved around the kitchen. "I'm pretty certain he didn't change anything the entire time I grew up. The rooms upstairs are probably pretty different though. It looked like my brother's rooms were all there, and they were different. I half expect Fred and George to trample down the stairs, but it didn't seem like anyone was here. It's a bit bigger than what I'm used to. I've got a flat in London where I'm at most of the time, I don't know why they dropped me this house, but I guess that's okay. More room for a party, I guess." He grinned thinking about his Uncle's response to the sort of parties Charlie typically hosted. "That would thrill Uncle Gideon completely."
Water was hot, so he poured it into a kettle to seap and turned around.
"Can I give you a proper hug?" he asked.
With the difficult year her family and the Order had had, Molly needed an excuse to fawn over someone. That usually ended up being her children. Seeing as they were older now she wouldn’t change her tune. Older or not, her children were still her children and she had ever intention of being a mother to every one of them. Even their friends.
Molly smiled fondly as she looked around, “I can see that. Consistency is often a good thing. Especially for children as they grow up.” Molly gave him a look, “I have a feeling Gideon and I would have been in agreement. You aren’t talking about parties in which you have lots of friends and alcohol, hm?” Molly Weasley. Ever the mother no matter how old her children are.
The question seemed to surprise her. Somehow she hadn’t expected it, and yet she should have. Perhaps it was that she might have expected it sooner, but that moment had passed. Her expression softened as she nodded, “Of course you can.” She closed that gap between then and wrapped her arms around him in a protective embrace. One only Molly was capable of offering.
Charlie kept from making a face about his Uncle and his Mum being in agreement only really because of that hug. This one was a more proper hug, and not one he’d had for a really long time. Sometimes Uncle Fabian offered one or he’d give one to his younger brothers, but they weren’t usually like this. And the oddest thing about it maybe, was the fact that although he was a lot larger than he had been the last time he’d hugged his Mother, the feeling was exactly how he remembered: comfort and acceptance, the comment about alcohol at the parties notwithstanding.
He stayed there, lingering maybe beyond what he should but for once not really even considering it. He wished his brothers were here. Even if it weren’t their mum exactly, he wished his Fred and George might show up - they should have had more of this.
It was a darker line of thought than he usually chased and he pulled back from it and back from the embrace too. “It’s really good to see you,” he said as he pulled in a breath and shrugged and grin. “I bet the tea is done.”
He crossed to pour out a couple of cups. “And I’m a star quidditch player, mum, almost all of the parties have a pint but it’s not anything like what you’re thinking.”
Even though Molly had no reason to be emotional in this moment, she couldn’t help it. She was standing in an almost exact replica of her brothers home, hugging a son who was another Molly’s but still hers all the same. A son who had grown up without her. That was one of her greatest fears and it had been realized in another life. Once the embrace was over she smiled fondly at him. “You too. And you need to know you’re always welcome at the Burrow. I understand if you want to stay here, and I appreciate you being here to keep this house safe. It has a lot of good memories for me.”
He was a grown adult. He could make his own choices. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t mother him. A brow raised sharply, “A pint is one thing. Make sure you don’t over do yourself. No one is charming when they’re inebriated.” It was a warning, because she would scold him for getting drunk and making a fool of himself. Molly wasn’t much of a drinker herself, especially not with small children. And with a four month old at home who relied on her, she didn’t need to be introducing those toxins to her daughter.
Molly say at the table now and patted the table toward the opposite side. “Sit. Tell me all about your career.”
Charlie sat, and looked up, easily beaming at that request. Talking about Quidditch and the Chudley Cannons was 100% preferable to discussing whether or not he should drink anything, or how much he should drink, or the fact that he'd been inebriated more times than he could count and certainly more times than he wanted his Mom to know about, because he'd also made a fool of himself while inebriated more times than he could count, and if he weren't the Seeker he was, he probably couldn't get away with it.
"Yeah, all right. So, I played Quidditch at Hogwarts, seeker, Gryffindor," he grinned all the way through this, pretty certain that his mom would be proud of his house, and probably also being seeker for the House team. "I was Captain my last year too," he settled in with the tea as he thought back. It would have been nice to have his parents at his matches, he supposed, although a lot of parents didn't come. But they were still good memories. "Anyway, after I sat my NEWTs I decided to take up on the offer the Cannons gave me. Cause, they were Dad's team. Are, I guess, anyway, doesn't matter - point is, I figured they could use a win or two, and maybe… if we got a bunch of really good players we'd manage a League Win eventually."
He wrapped his hands around the mug and brought it to his lips. "We're still working on that part, but their numbers have gone up since I've been playing for them."
Part of Molly’s redirection was to get her focus off of her own personal feelings about being back in this house. It was a pleasant place, with so many fond memories, but it was also so full of memories that it could be a little overwhelming. This had been such a whirlwind of a week that Molly didn’t need to break down and cry, too. She had gone from livid and raging upon arrival, to denial about wherever she was, to acceptance. She didn’t need tears thrown in there as well. She hadn’t come here to cry. She could do that on her own. It was her job to comfort her children when they were in distress.
Molly beamed when he said he had been in Gryffindor. And their Seeker and captain, no less. It made a mother proud. She wanted all of her children to be Sorted into Gryffindor like she and Arthur had been. Wouldn’t it be such a wonderful family tradition? Molly sipped at her tea as she listened to him, nodding here and there to show her interest.
“That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you and your accomplishments,” she said with a smile.
Charlie grinned easily, a little bit of tension easing out of his neck as he did so. He'd always wanted his parents to be proud of him, and while he knew he was a long way from the perfect son they'd want, he hoped that they would be in their own ways proud of him. Hearing his Mum actually say that, was a really good feeling.
"I like it a lot," he responded, encouraged. "It's pretty much one of the best careers and I can't think of much else I'd prefer to be doing. Maybe working with magical creatures…" he trailed off slightly. Like the other Charlie. He could see doing it. Which both made sense and was weird to think of what his life would have been like if he hadn't done Quidditch. Probably pretty different. "But I think when I got the opportunity to play for the Cannons, there wasn't really any question. Of course I was gonna do that. Uncle Fabian has season passes and comes to most of the games."
It was nice to just sit and chat. To not have to worry about little ones running around, or a diaper to change, or a baby to feed. Molly missed it, of course, but it was a nice change of pace. Although she did suppose it made her a little less needed overall. She had every intention of mothering everyone at the Burrow, and she now planned to come here and check on Charlie any chance she got.
“You sound like it,” she encouraged. “It’s important to find something you enjoy, and I’m glad you’ve found it. Now we just need to get Quidditch to happen here in Tumbleweed.” Molly smiled, “I’ve heard it’s exciting. I could never really imagine myself outside of the Burrow. Raising young ones has always been my calling. Now I’m here… I’m not really sure what to do besides feed everyone,” she chuckled. She paused a moment before asking, “Are there any photos of my brothers? Recent ones? Since they… didn’t make it, I’d like to see what they would have looked like.” "Yeah!" Charlie agreed, and then his smile faded slightly remembering that Tonks had said they were 'working on a snitch'. Obviously that was going to be a ways away. But maybe he could help get it moving further forward. It wasn't impossible, was it? "We'll get it. I mean our family alone we've probably got a team." Tonks hadn't said she played at school, his Tonks had played for Hufflepuff and Charlie wondered if Tonks didn't play at all, or just hadn't on the team. He supposed he could figure that out later.
"I'm just -" he looked over at his face softened. "It's just good to see you." He still couldn't quite fathom that he was sitting in his Uncle's kitchen with his Mum sitting there, and he was having a grown-up decent conversation with her. "But photos. I said I'd look didn't I? I didn't have anything on me, but the house is here, so... "
He was up from the kitchen table quickly, moving into the living room and scanning bookshelves. There had been a photo album on here he was pretty certain unless his Uncle Fabian had left it elsewhere. He rummaged through some doors, and then grinned, triumphantly, bringing back an album. "Yeah, here! It's last Christmas."
Molly chuckled at his excitement. “There are enough witches and wizards capable of flying, I’m sure we could muster up a team. I’ll be on the sidelines, cheering everyone on, though.” Molly preferred apparition. She wasn’t much of a flyer and she couldn’t remember the last time she used a broom apart from cleaning.
“It’s good to see you, too.” She was pleased with this visit. It put her at ease to know he was alright, even if he was living on his own. She imagined going back to the Burrow to a full house and that made her a little sad because she would have liked to invite him. But considering his past she didn’t know if he would have wanted to come along even just as a visit.
Molly waited patiently, sipping her tea and glancing around the kitchen. When he returned she took her time looking through the photos. She smiled mostly, because she could absolutely see her brothers. Their younger selves. They had always been such handsome young men, she knew they’d grow up the same way. However, the more Molly looked she could feel that lump in her throat building. This was a future brothers from her reality never got to have and it killed her. She carefully set the album down on the table and took in a deep breath. She was attempting to keep her emotions under control. However, she couldn’t stop it soon enough. She rested her elbow on the table and placed her hand against her forehead. The very last thing she had meant to do was cry, and that’s exactly what she ended up doing.
Charlie watched his mother looking through the photos and he smiled a little as she watched. He wondered if it was stranger for him, or for her, because for her he was a lot older and all of this would not have happened - even had Uncle Gideon or Uncle Fabian been alive still for her. It was that moment that he realized that all of the photos were affecting her. Charlie had never been really good with emotional displays. He mostly tried not to have them. And he tried to avoid being around people with them, but at the same time, this was his Mum.
He put his mug down and after a moment he scooted over towards his Mum and reached a hand out to put on her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly. He didn't know what to say. His parents death had been so long ago, and he knew from what she'd said that Fabian and Gideon's was a lot more fresh for her. He'd gotten through it. But it was all fresh for his Mum, and he supposed.
"Sorry," he murmured. "This has got to be difficult for you."
Molly hadn't meant to break down the way she had. It had been such a rough year and she had moments, even months after the fact. The only person she had let see her like this before now was Arthur. It sort of snuck up on her before she could stop it. Her reality was vastly different from the others. Her brothers were gone. Lily and James were gone in her time, and yet they were here. She wasn't sure how she would feel if they suddenly showed up. Maybe she would be relieved. No, she would absolutely be relieved. After all, in another reality she had been the one to die. Along with Arthur.
At first Molly didn't move when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She instead attempted to get control over herself. It was unlike Molly to break down in front of most others. Usually it was she who leant a shoulder.
When she finally regained control she sat up a little straighter and put a hand on his. She smiled at Charlie. “It's been a rough year,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break down like that.”
Charlie shuffled his feet, uncertain exactly how to be comforting. It was a lot easier to be antagonistic, which is usually what happened with his Uncles. That was something he'd never really learned well. Somehow even having raised up his brothers after everything, he hadn't really figured out comforting. Maybe cause mostly they'd not known anything different, and Bill, who had, was really the one that probably had comforted Charlie most of the time, and that had largely been by playing Quidditch. He really couldn't invite his Mother to play Quidditch.
"It's understandable," he glanced around the room. "It's weird to think that they're gone for you. And this whole week has been rather mad. For both of us really." And that was definitely true. Completely mental. And yet, it was real. Or at least, if it was a dream, he wasn't waking up from it.
"I'm not seven," he told her. "It's all right."
It was different comforting a parent than a child. Molly could remember feeling very awkward anytime her mother was sad, but it had taken time for her to learn how to comfort others. It wasn't always a natural trait. Sometimes it had to be learned. Sometimes Molly just needed a quiet moment to herself. Sometimes she needed Arthur. Seeing as she didn't have either at her disposal right now she allowed that moment of vulnerability.
“This whole place is mad,” she said with a little shake of her head. Molly wondered who else would show up. If they would be friendly, or if they would have to fight off Death Eaters. That thought had occurred to her more than once, but she did her best not to think about that.
“You may not be seven, but you shouldn't have to deal with this.” She sighed heavily and ran her hands through her hair. “Alright, I brought you some chicken and ham casserole. You need to eat something,” she said finally.
"You want some of it too?" He asked, a quick, almost cocky grin on his face as the change of subject was a lot easier to deal with. "The leftovers Albus brought me the other night were pretty amazing. Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian don't cook like you do."
He pulled a couple of plates out of the cupboard and sat them down by the dish he'd put on the stove. " This smells amazing, Mum."
He started dishing it up trying not to think about how surreal this was. Sitting in his Uncle's kitchen, dishing up his Mum's chicken and ham casserole, while he was in Texas, miles away from England, Quidditch, and everything he really knew. And yet, at the same time everything here was stuff he knew. The smell of the dish, the kitchen itself, all of it familiar in its own way.
He pulled around with two plates and passed one over to her. "It is mad, but we'll just have to make our own memories here is all."
“I would love some,” she said with a smile. Molly had been cooking since she could use a wand. She had had years to hone her skills and eventually when she started a family she had become so good she could use a replication spell to increase portions. That way whenever the family grew she could easily make the necessary adjustments to feed everyone. Therefore, feeding the number of people she had the night before hadn't been difficult at all. Molly had several recipe books at her disposal and she was pleased to find they had followed her there. Not that she really needed most of them. She had many of the recipes memorized, but there were several that required precise instructions and those she wanted at her fingertips.
With the moment of heartbreak passed, Molly closed the photo album and didn't dare look at it again that day. Perhaps another time when the memories weren't so fresh. She offered a little smile at the compliment. Molly was so used to her cooking that she didn't boast about it all that often. Hearing her family appreciate her skills was enough.
“Thank you, dear,” Molly said as she pulled the plate just slightly closer and picked up the fork. She took a bite and when she had swallowed she smiled and nodded in agreement, “Absolutely, we will.”