InsaneJournal

FIC: 'Driving Mrs. Weasley' for sigune
Recipient: sigune
Author: miramiraficfic
Title: Driving Mrs. Weasley
Rating: G
Pairings: Arthur/Molly
Word Count: 1403
Warnings: None
Summary: In a missing moment from Chamber of Secrets, Arthur and Molly make up after the Ford Anglia fight.
Author's Notes: Older generation, canon-compliance, missing moment, and no smut, as requested. I tried to work in Snape, but I couldn't think of a logical reason for him to be in Ottery St. Catchpole that day. Hopefully this will still meet with approval.

***

The echoes from that morning's argument had finally stopped ringing in Arthur's ears. Which didn't make it smart or even safe to check on Molly just yet, but at least it wouldn't be suicidal. Slowly, he tiptoed up to the kitchen, flattened himself against the adjoining wall, and peered inside.

Oh, dear. She was chopping vegetables. The Muggle way. With the sharpest knife in the Burrow. This did not bode well.

He withdrew his head and was about to retreat the rest of the way when she spoke, without interrupting her work. "I know you're there, Arthur Weasley, so stop skulking in the doorway and say what you have to say."

Still hesitant, he stepped into the doorway. "Hello, Molly."

A tight smile played across her mouth as she continued chopping. "Is that all?"

"N—no," he stammered, trying to remember the speech he'd come up with. "Er, that is…it would be a shame to spend this beautiful summer afternoon indoors slaving away over dinner. What do you say to casting a Preserving Charm on those ingredients and getting out for a bit? Just the two of us?"

Molly stopped chopping for a moment to appraise him, but did not lower the knife. "You're suggesting that we leave the children alone after what happened last night?"

"I understand your concern, love," Arthur assured her. "But the children went to go fetch Harry, and Harry is here now. Besides which, he strikes me as a responsible young man."

Down came the knife with a thwack and a snort from Molly. "Responsible, perhaps. Capable of handling Fred and George? Hardly."

"There's Percy." If he ever came out of his room, that was. Arthur needed to have a talk with that boy once this crisis passed.

Chop, chop. "That might inspire them to try harder. Or have you forgotten the billywig incident?"

St. Mungo's hadn't forgotten the billywig incident, Arthur was sure, but now was not the time to point that out. "Mollywobbles, please." The chopping came to an abrupt halt. He cringed, before realizing she was waiting for him to continue. "I know you've had a nerve-wracking evening and a trying morning, and I'm partially--mostly responsible. All I ask is an hour to make it up to you."

After what felt like twice that length of time, Molly set down the knife and flicked her wand at the vegetables, which took on a bright, waxy sheen. "You can have five minutes," she told him, undoing her apron. "After that, we'll see."

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, dear." He raced ahead to hold the front door open for her.

Molly took a few steps outside before stopping and turning to face him. Arthur found himself momentarily stunned by the effect of the sunlight on her hair, though not too dazzled to spot a couple of gnomes pick up their pace as they snuck back into the garden. For their sake, he hoped she didn't decide to look behind her.

"Where were you planning on taking us?" she asked.

"Well, we could walk down to the river, or into town, or pay a call on the Diggorys." He tried to keep his eyes focused on her as he spoke, at least until he finished the explanation, but they kept straying of their own accord to something other than the gnomes. "But I was thinking that…er, we might try something a bit—well, different…"

The object of his glances apparently did not go unnoticed, as Molly's mouth fell open and she gaped for a moment at the Ford Anglia parked beside the garage. He almost imagined he saw a chip of turquoise paint flake away under her glare, and resisted the temptation to watch her reflection in the mirror instead as she turned it back on him, hands on hips. "Arthur Weasley! Have you lost your mind?!"

"Molly, please, hear me out—"

"There is nothing to discuss! I told you when you brought that thing home that I knew better than to try and stop you from fiddling with it, but I refused to have any part of it!"

"But," Arthur protested, "you seemed so interested when you'd come out to the garage to ask me questions while I was working, I thought perhaps you'd changed…"

"I asked because I had to know what was so engrossing that it would keep my husband from me for hours!" If the admission hadn't startled him into silence, the sudden burst of tears would have. "And then you finally finished, and I thought everything would go back to normal: I could expect you back in bed at a reasonable hour, and we could have conversations about something other than pressure or gears or whatever those bits you're obsessed with are, and the children wouldn't keep giving that look when they came in and saw it was only me in the house. But it isn't enough that you're delighted the boys went out and tested it for you. Oh, no. You have to try the cursed contraption for yourself, and you have the nerve to pretend you're doing it as a favor to me!" Her voice was almost back to the morning's volume, though somewhat muddled through the crying. "Well, you can fly the blasted thing into a—a tree for all I care! I'm going back inside!"

"Molly!" Arthur reached out to catch her arm as she stormed past him. If she'd truly wanted nothing to do with him, he knew full well that even a Body-Binding curse wouldn't have stopped her, which was just about the only thing that gave him the courage to look past the blazing fury and hurt in her expression and draw her closer into an embrace. She accepted this stiffly for a few seconds, then softened and fell forward, sobbing into his shoulder.

When her shaking subsided, he pulled back and lifted her chin, wiping away a stray tear in the process. "Do you want to know how this really all started?" He took her slight tremble for a nod. "Remember last summer, we were watching the boys on their brooms, and you told me how you wished you'd learned Quidditch while you had the chance?"

"I tried to," she said quietly, lowering her head again to study her hands. "Fabian and Gideon teased me too much every time I came near a broom. I think they were afraid of me getting hurt."

"I would never do anything if I thought it meant hurting you, either," he told her fervently. "Our boys get their athleticism from your brothers, Mollywobbles. I can't teach you how to ride a broom, even if we could afford one that isn't on its last bristles. And there's no getting around the laws on carpets. But all I wanted was to give you a chance to fly."

Her still-glittering blue eyes met his brown ones. "All?"

"Well…" Arthur suspected this question belonged to the same category as "Do these robes make me look fat?", but didn't know the smart answer. He decided to go with the honest one and hope for the best. "I confess, the idea came to me after I'd brought the car home."

He braced himself for another lecture, but the next sound he heard was laughter, then his own surprised inhalation as Molly kissed him. "Very well," she told him when her lips were free again, eyes sparkling with a very different emotion. "After all the trouble you've gone to, I suppose I wouldn't object to a flight…"

Arthur brightened.

"…but not today, and not in this. Neither the Shooting Star nor I are so old that I can't use that." His disappointment must have been more obvious than he'd hoped, as she chuckled again and patted him on the cheek. "If you want to take the car on the road, though, I wouldn't mind seeing how the enigma runs."

"You mean the engine."

"If you say so." With a turn of her heel that set her robes twirling, she walked to the passenger side of the Anglia and leaned a hip against the door. "Hurry, before the twins explode something and I change my mind."

She smiled as she said it, but neither of them could resist a quick glance up at the twins' bedroom. Hands fumbling in his pocket for the keys, Arthur rushed to comply while all remained silent.