InsaneJournal

Who: Molly Weasley and Fabian Prewett
What: Discussing dinner and dueling
When: Sunday evening, 12 April 1998
Where: The Burrow
Warnings: Brief mention of death and violence.
Status: Completed log



Forty-five (no, forty-six; there had been a birthday in there) was too old to spend most of the night up after most of the day, even if there had been one hell of a duel to keep him awake. The only reason Fabian had got home safely after his release was the amount of Ministry coffee he'd consumed during his stint being questioned, which had left him jittery with caffeine nerves when he'd finally got home. A long day of sleep and rest, intermittently interrupted by responses to his journal and the occasional nosh from his cupboard, was enough to prepare him for the trip out to Devon.

Bruise paste and burn paste had already dealt with the worst of his injuries, and he thought he'd got all the splinters out of him from the furniture that had had been smashed to smithereens around him. A good shower, some clean clothes, and Fabian was ready to apparate down to Devon and present himself to Molly. By the time he knocked on the door of the Burrow, he looked fairly fully recovered from his misadventure, and more like himself than he would have in the rarely-worn dinner jacket he'd set aside for last night's event.

Molly was preoccupied. She had some actually fussing about to do, especially with Ron and Ginny heading back to Hogwarts that day, but after she did all of that, she realised she spent most of her time running about looking for something to distract her. When Fabian hadn’t made dinner at their parents’ the night before, she was glad he agreed to see her so soon. She always felt a bit nosy asking about anything regarding work or the Order. Half of it was because she knew it would only worry her sick, but also so she didn’t put Fabian in an odd position. She was only planning on asking a few questions, especially once she could see him in one piece, which she had learned long ago not to take for granted.

When Fabian knocked on the door, Molly had been in the middle of one of her preoccupations - trimming her poor little potted plant, which saw trimmed nearly bare at least twice a month. Wiping her hands on her apron, Molly bustled to the door. Seeing Fabian on the other side, she paused a moment, taking a look at his face, and pulling him in for a hug before stepping aside to let him in. “Tea?” she asked, waving her wand at the kettle, lighting the fire underneath it. She quickly stowed away her poor plant on the window sill, “Sit,” she said, but pulled at Fabian’s arm before he could do so. She pulled him around her a bit, peaking at any bit of him she could for any obvious wounds before pursing her lips at him and giving him an approving “hm.” Then she pulled out a chair and sat, sighing like she hadn’t sat all day. “Okay, now you can sit,” Molly smiled at her brother, “If you’d like, I mean.”

During Molly's inspection, Fabian doffed his battered dragonhide jacket, which had already undergone one repair recently, and let her get a good look at his range of movement, which was fairly complete and didn't seem to suffer from stiffness. There was the slightest whiff of bruise and burn paste about him, as he had told Molly, and a spot on his right hand that had clearly seen something removed from it (splinters of the dining table, as it happened), but he did seem mostly hale and whole. He draped the jacket over the back of the chair and settled in it, waiting until Molly was seated to tell her what he'd been up to.

"So, er, what I got up to, that I had to assist the Aurors with enquiries? Was, and I swear, Molly, that this was an accident, I wasn't looking out for it, I literally stumbled across her in my own building when I was going home to get dressed for dinner," Fabian hesitated, took a moment to man up and finished, "I ran across Lady Noir. And tried to keep her from killing one of my neighbours."

Molly watched him as he sat, to see any grimacing or looks of pain from him. She narrowed her eyes, but kept her smile on. Every time she saw him whole, even if he had some scrapes and smelled of bruise paste, which she had become accustomed to years ago, she couldn’t help but be glad. “You’ll have to let me look at you a bit better later,” she pointed her finger at him slightly before leaning her elbows on the kitchen table to hear what had happened. When she did, her shoulders stiffened a bit and her eyebrow raised. “What?” she whispered. “How, well, I mean, how did,” Molly stumbled over her words a bit, “Which neighbour?” That was the only question she could get out, but really wasn’t at all what she was really concerned with. Her actual concerns were they fact that he just happened to run into her and happened to be dragged in for questioning. “Are you sure it was an accident?” She looked at Fabian’s hand, where she noticed some of his scrapes and back up at his face.

"The Spebbingtons. She killed Mr Spebbington and I could hear Mrs Spebbington sobbing and Molly, I know I'm supposed to wait for the Aurors, but if I hadn't stepped in, she might have finished Mrs Spebbington. They took her to Mungo's and I don't even know if she made it." Which he understood as a security precaution, but Fabian wanted to know, to understand whether what he'd done had made a difference. "I called for help and someone summoned the Aurors and that was why I had to go in as a witness. I'm sure they thought there was something odd about me being there, but I live there.

"She wasn't there for me. She was there for them." Fabian said this with a certainty that he felt right up until the moment the words were out of his mouth. He had been threatened, twice now, and that was before James and Sirius had got the Order into the confrontation with her and her apparent Death Eater allies. "And even if she had come for me, she'd've had a hell of a time getting into my flat."

There were two fears in Molly’s mind. One was that she was not near Fabian incidentally, even though it was seeming so the more she listened, but still caused a small dip in her stomach. And the second was that whoever questioned him at the Ministry didn’t find it coincidental that he happened to be there. Molly bit her bottom lip and shook her head, “No, well, you’re an idiot for not waiting, but you might have helped your neighbour.” That was the part of Fabian that made Molly sick with worry, but what was also one of his best qualities, and one that made her proud.

She wouldn’t admit that, considering how close he sounded to fatal danger, Fabian looked relatively unharmed, unless he was hiding some gigantic wound. The kettle whistled urgently and Molly quickly pushed herself out of her seat to quiet it, pouring them a cup each and returning to her chair. “Sleepy time,” she said quickly before wrinkling her nose at him again. “And they only asked you what happened? Did any of the questions seem odd?”

"After last month, no. I was lucky, again. I drew an Auror who wasn't interested in humiliating me because I'm an ex-con." There had been occasions when Fabian had been questioned by hostile Aurors and come out of it badly shaken. This time, by contrast, things had gone reasonably well from his point of view. "I wouldn't be surprised if I get an Auror or two watching me for a little while in case Lady Noir does decide to have a go at me." He reached across the table to take Molly's hand, though which of them it was meant to reassure wasn't clear.

Molly played with the water at the edge of her teacup with the tip of her finger, listening and nodding along to what Fabian said. The thought that someone would try to humiliate him made her close her eyes for a moment, squeezing them tightly before looking up to him taking her hand. “Well,” she said in an exhale, “I suppose it can’t hurt to have someone watching your back.”

She gave Fabian a small smile and a squeeze of his hand, “And you’re sure you’re all in one piece? No limbs missing, all your digits?” She was changing the subject only a bit, but as long as he was all right, she didn’t need to ask him anything that might be upsetting. “Are you all right?” Molly hated the fact that her brother, who she had only ever felt complete responsibility for, could get so shaken by, well, anything. It made sense, but it still made her sad and angry knowing he didn’t always feel that way.

Fabian nodded in answer to all her questions. "Everything's still attached. I've got good shielding on my jacket and you know I reinforce it all the time. But I didn't rely on it and did a lot of shielding of my own person as well. I stayed behind furniture--a chair, a dining table--and most of the damage I took was from her blowing it to bits. And I knocked her out the window when I meant to smack her into the wall. That was how she got away. And I'm--I'm a little shaken up. But I've seen you and George came by and I think Gwen might come by later. So anything I'm not a hundred percent fine about yet, I will be." And that was really all the Auror Office. He'd told Bilius he wasn't overconfident--and he knew he'd had a close shave and plenty of good luck--but the second floor of the Ministry would always leave him with that feeling, and the long-lasting aftereffects.

Every thought Molly had regarding Fabian’s questioning, his fighting, his possibly near death experience, it made her pause again. There were times that she wished there wasn’t some part of her ingrained with the idea that she wasn’t strong enough to fight. Because, at this moment, and in a lot of past moments regarding her brothers, she felt she could’ve and maybe even should have done something bigger and more helpful than offering to mend jackets or lend some bruise paste. “Oh, if you want me to take a look at your jacket, I can do that, too,” she remembered at his mention of his jacket. The details Fabian described made her grimace at the thought, but she nodded along, making sure he knew she was listening to every word. “I’m sure you’re shaken up,” she squeezed his hand again and motioned with her other at his teacup, “Have some of your tea.”

“Did you see her land anywhere? Maybe she was injured,” Molly said knowing it was somewhat naive to even think a fall from a window would be Lady Noir’s doom. She shook her head and waved her hand at her own silly question, as if to dismiss Fabian from having to answer it. The last thing Molly wanted to do was be another interrogator. “Well, whatever you need to un-shake you, even a little, let me know.” She gave him a small smile and blinked at him, glad to hear he had several people to talk to that would help him feel better. She thought again, for a moment, that she was glad to see Fabian in one piece.

"The company and the tea is all I need." Which was mostly true. Time and sleep had dulled the rest of the gut-churn from his visit to the DMLE. "And no, I know she got away. It was only a first storey window and she threw a curse back at me from the ground." He turned round in his chair and lifted the jacket off the back to show it to Molly. "You can see where all the splinters hit me here, and here, and that was from the dining table. Got a big bruise on my left leg from that. It's already fading with the paste, though."

The vicious slash he'd taken from the Death Eater last month had already been mended, but Fabian could see where it had been, on the right arm where someone probably hadn't realised at first that Fabian was left-handed. He hoped Molly wouldn't notice.

Nodding, Molly knew that was the answer regarding Lady Noir. She knew it was silly the moment it left her mouth, but she had to ask. Feeling a bit useless that tea was all she had to offer, Molly accepted Fabian’s answer that it would help.”Well, anything else, too. I could throw a punch or two in your name, if need be.” Molly took the jacket with both hands and pulled it towards her, looking closely at the seams, checking out the integrity, running her finger along the stitches. She could see the damage it had taken and felt a rush of worry build up near her throat. “I can run over these seams again, if you’d like, maybe add a patch behind these tears.” She looked up at her brother to see if he accepted the offer, but he did seem to do damn well reinforcing the thing, made obvious by the fact that he’d been beaten up worse before.

She did catch a glimpse of Fabian’s arm as he held his jacket. She noted all the marks, as she always had, there were new ones, big and small, dark and faded. She never knew where they all came from and part of her was glad she didn’t (even if she would never admit to preferring ignorance), since there were several. But they all eventually became part of her picture of Fabian. She wrinkled her nose at the thought and looked back up at him, “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said, putting the jacket down on the table and patting the top of his hand, “But seriously, you let me know who needs it, and I’ve got a punch with their name on it.”

Under Molly's hand, Fabian's turned over and his fingers wrapped around hers, with just enough pressure for her to know he was touching. "Nobody I'd put you in trouble by punching. And if Mum and Dad need it, I think I need to do it myself anyroad. Now," he said, his voice strengthening as he changed the subject, "I want to hear your version of the great Prewett Dinner Party of 1998." He leaned toward Molly a little and smiled, giving her fingers another squeeze.

Molly, as always, was stuck between worrying she was asking too much and worrying she wasn’t asking enough. But she knew, hopefully, that Fabian knew she was there to talk to when he needed to, even if the details made her feel sick. She pressed her lips into a sarcastic smile and rolled her eyes at the mention of their parents, “The offer remains, especially for them.” And at the mention of the dinner party, Molly exhaled loudly and sighed, sinking in her chair a bit. It honestly didn’t go as badly as it could have gone, but it didn’t go completely well. There were saints at the party as well as trouble makers. To be honest, Molly’s thoughts had been focused on that damn dinner party so much, she was tired of them.

“Ugh, well, you know. You’ve been to them. Even as an adult, it was just as uncomfortable as it was years ago.” She paused, feeling just a touch of guilt at complaining, if only because she knew that her grandparents just wanted to meet their grandchildren, even if it was anything but good intentioned. She replayed a few bits in her head and shook her head. “George stormed out,” she stated lowly, “after he put Fainting Fancies in what seemed to be pretty particular plates. Mum’s, Percy’s, specifically.” She glanced up at Fabian to see his reaction. She was sure he had heard, but was still interested to see what she could read from his face.

There had been a time during Fabian's years as a solicitor, when he'd been going to those parties undercover, as it were, for the Order, listening in for all the sorts of things people let slip in front of a well-off young man whom they assumed shared his parents' politics, that he'd sort of enjoyed going to those parties. They'd been more glamourous and sophisticated in those days, and the company that they'd attracted had been better. Since his return from prison, Fabian hadn't been in good enough odor to be invited to the best parties, or so he assumed, or perhaps he'd been let off the hook until now. In any case, he could certainly fake it: he had for the WICCA Holiday Ball. But he was far more comfortable in Molly's kitchen, and felt far more accepted there.

Fabian's expression betrayed that he'd heard something of the quarrel between George and Percy. "I wish I'd been there; maybe I'd've had a shot at taking the edge off." His tone suggested he doubted that, though. "They weren't raised to it. That's not a complaint--there's no reason why you would, when you fought so hard to not have to do it yourself. But I'm not surprised that George, and probably some of the others, resent them. Look at how Mum and Dad live, and how you've had to struggle. It's not as bad as what they did to Gideon, but they could have done a lot better by you than they have. Arthur's a good man, and he's their dad, and I'm not surprised that George resents how they've treated the two of you."

Molly listened. Each sentence made more and more sense. “Maybe it would’ve helped.” She knew all of it, but hearing it said by someone else instead of just listening to her own thoughts made it a bit more real. Molly had a habit of hearing a statement and then, a moment later, dissecting it into all the other things it meant. It was why she tended to take things personally and why she tried to be careful with her own words. And so what Fabian said translated, on some level, to the animosity being her fault. She felt that way, too, to see Percy fit in so well with people she was responsible, to some extent, for keeping him from. And, then again, to see George and several other people resentful and unhappy for the same reason.

There was a moment or two of quiet and Molly blinked down at her lap. “I didn’t even hate that sort of thing when I was younger, but I definitely did not feel like I fit in perfectly then. Feeling that as an adult is just embarrassing.” She rolled her eyes at herself. Molly was her mother and father’s daughter. She was a fine example of their upbringing, but she had always felt a bit at odds in having so many things, of the dressing up, of the small talk that seemed to get more vapid the older she got. “I’m glad George said what he thought. To be honest, if he had said it right in Mum’s face, I wouldn’t have minded.” The biggest issue, for her, was that it was directed at Percy. “Arthur was a bloody saint, of course. Along with Gideon.” She waved a hand in the air, as if the thought of keeping a completely level head at the dinner was a difficult task that she had failed. “I’m not sure exactly who she picked out for you, but every woman there that wasn’t in our family was bloody gorgeous.” Molly breathed a small laugh and leaned her elbow on the table, resting her chin on her hand. “I’m surprised they didn’t try to set me up with someone with Arthur there.”

"Yeah, and that's the sort of thing they resent, your children. Mum and Dad don't respect any of us as people, as adults. I told Dad I was seeing someone and I'm sure Mum ignored that and tried to set me up nonetheless. Probably with someone young enough to be my daughter." Which Gwen almost was, and Fabian cut that thought off before it could finish forming. "Molly, you've done everything right in loving your children. Sometimes I wish they'd been exposed more to our parents before now, but mostly for the purposes of inoculating them. Mum is crafty, and I should know. Where do you think I got my inner Slytherin from? And Dad's a coward, or he would have been coming here for years and making everything right. I kept the lines open all these years in the hopes of it being made right. But you were right all along, and all of us know it."

Fabian got out of his chair and came over to Molly to wrap her up in his arms, since she clearly needed the hug.

Molly huffed a sigh again, a piece of her hair flipping upwards in the gust. “Ah, I’m too old for that - being courteous to people who don’t listen to you, schmoozing - I’m not even good at it. And if I’m too old, that means you’re almost too old.” Molly had thought about the situation countless times and she would be lying if she never thought she might have made a mistake by not insisting her children know their grandparents well. But, in all honesty, their grandparents never seemed to feel they were missing out. They could dismiss her and Arthur all they wanted, because neither of them minded, but to dismiss children, especially her’s. Molly had a hard time feeling bad for them. She just felt a bit bad for her kids and, after the dinner, she knew she had made the right choice for some of them, but not for all, in keeping them at a distance.

Molly paused her little tirade with some hand waving and little jabs at Fabian with her finger. She didn’t want to be right, necessarily, but it was somewhat comforting to know she hadn’t made the completely wrong decision. “And you can see whoever you want,” she gave him a smile and one more jab, “and Gideon can see whoever he wants. And I can marry whoever I want.” She knew they had had this conversation in the past, but the thought that she was in her forties and still having to rant about Mummy and Daddy being unfair made her laugh. So, she rolled her eyes and chuckled against Fabian as he hugged her and remember the rant always did make her feel better, along with the hug. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she added for good measure, patting his back.