Entry tags:

! log, 1998-january, character: molly weasley, x-character: gideon prewett

WHO: Gideon Prewett & Molly Weasley
WHAT: Molly drops in unexpectedly on her younger brother
WHEN: (backdated) Sunday Afternoon, 1/18/1997
WHERE: Gideon's farm
RATING: Low to Medium
STATUS: Started in GDocs; Continued in comments

Molly adjusted the basket of treats on her arm as she made her way down the path toward Gideon's. She knew better than to apparate too close to his house. With both her brothers, she felt like it was a good idea to give them advanced warning that she was showing up. She could have written him in the journals, but she didn't want to give him a chance to tell her no. She actually wanted to see her brother on his own.

Molly wasn't paranoid, but the more they told her not to worry, the more she thought there was cause for concern, and she hadn't really had a chance lately to pick Gideon's mind to make sure he was actually okay. She tried not to smother him, to let him come to her, but Molly felt like, maybe, there was something she wasn't being told.

So she armed herself with the fresh baked goods and hoped they would butter her brother up a bit. She whistled as she walked the path to Gideon's door, and knocked cheerfully when she got there. "Gideon? I've brought you a treat."

*****

“Mo--lly.” The intonation of Gideon’s voice was at once alarmed and, as if realising how it sounded halfway through uttering it, belatedly fell into a low note of welcome, which made for a very strange sound overall.

He and Charlie shared a look across the table, traded silent exchanges of:

Mum? Oh no.

It’s fine, just--

Yes, I’ll be going.

--before Charlie gingerly slid from his chair and tiptoed out of the room to make himself scarce from the house over all.

Gideon stood up and wiped his hands on the nearest rag, took a moment to assure no traces of alarm remained on his face, and then opened the door to reveal his sister, her basket, and her all too clever older sister expression, which, in turn, made him feel like he was five all over again and wanting to scuffle a foot beneath his big sister’s gaze.

“And hullo to you too. This is unexpected. Come in?”

*****

Molly had seven children. She knew that look, but she decided to wait to address it. She wasn't the type of person to admonish anyone while standing on their doorstep in the middle of winter. So she smiled and nodded and followed her brother in.

"I know I should have told you," she said as she removed her shawl and hat, "or asked, really, that I was coming, but," Molly turned to look up at her younger brother. "You and Fabian have a way of eluding me when you take it into your heads that you should."

She smiled. "Tea, I think, to go with what's in the basket, then I want to hear all about the work that my well-meaning and thoroughly earnest third born arranged for you without your permission." She was focused on something from months ago, but she'd only just arrived.

*****

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But Gideon could only look after her with an expression that was distinctly nonplussed. Her mind, ever the steel trap that it was, seemed to strike always at the most unexpected times in the most vulnerable spots. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded. “Tea. Right.”

He cleared his throat and moved to put the kettle on. He still had plenty of Fabian’s preferred brand, thanks to their parents’ mistaken assumptions in sending it to him which he never bothered to correct: it was good tea. “Oh, he did mean well. I only have myself to blame. I gave Percy free reign to make what he could of my surplus. I thought it would be but a simple farm stand somewhere. Instead he had organised a whole produce supply chain to Hogsmeade. That boy can be quite industrious when he puts his mind to it.”

*****

"He is pushier than I am," Molly replied dryly as she retrieved plates from Gideon's cupboards and set the, with napkins, on his table next to the basket of muffins and scones. Despite her tone, she was proud of Percy, and that pride shone on her face. "He really should have asked you first. Cleared all of the details before he set anything in motion. Free reign or no, he crossed a line. And I need to know how you're doing with it." She turned a gentle and concerned look on her brother.

*****

His mind flashed to Cabot and Fellows. The waste and ruin and humiliation they had wrought to underline their threats. His hands clenched around the cups he had gone to set out and had set them down with slightly too much force.

“It’s fine.” He tried for a smile that undoubtedly emerged a grimace. It wasn’t directed at Percy. It was -- everything else. He shook his head. Tried again. “I’ll think better of it next harvest though. I’m not used to the exposure. I don’t think I shall ever be used to it.” In more ways than one.

But he was aware that his front was thin at best, so even if it was obvious, he still persisted in a full change of subject: “Speaking of my dearest nephews, it would appear you’ll soon have the full brood back on English soil again.”

*****

Molly noticed the shift in his mood, but she knew when to stop pushing. She simply filed it away for later, when she might be able to surprise an unguarded answer from him. "They say practice makes perfect for a reason," she said with a slight shrug, "but you also need to be comfortable and at your ease."

She embraced the subject change and sighed dramatically into her tea. "My boys. It's a complete surprise. I'm so used to them popping in for a meal before doing anything else. Especially when they've missed a holiday."

*****

Perhaps it was skirting danger to bring up subjects related to Charlie when the man in question was in convalescence nearby, but Gideon was nonetheless grateful to successfully shift the weight of Molly’s attention elsewhere, for it was not always nor often the case.

“It’s as if they could sense what was happening here and followed the scent. Weasleys seem to have a sharp nose for trouble.” Be it for getting into it or causing it themselves. He loved his nephews and niece fiercely -- but they were a handful and he his regard for his sister always seemed to swing between admiration and amazement for her deft mastery at herding them all.

He brought the tea service to the table and gently set down her mug as if to make up for his earlier force. “Fabian been by to check the wards?”

*****

Molly sat and sighed dramatically, though some of the exasperation was very real. "I have no idea where they get it from," she said dryly, eyeing her brother with a wry expression. "Even the responsible one has a penchant for getting into trouble, even when he doesn't realise he's heading in that direction."

Smiling her thanks, she picked up her tea cup and sipped the hot brew with satisfaction. "mmm. Yes. He's so thorough, I'm a little surprised I could leave them. I don't like that he had to reinforce them. I don't like anything that's going on or what it means. I hate that my children are actually old enough to get involved, because it's their choice and not mine."

Molly shook her head and chewed on the inside of her lip. "I hate I can't keep you all safe, especially from yourselves."

*****

The expression that befell his features was automatic and long ingrained, often from having to face an assortment of consternation from authority figures for acts in which he had only tangentially been a part: bewildered innocence, accompanied by a shoulder shrug that could only have been the verbal equivalent of Who, me? and, perhaps, an additional clause of, All Fabian. All of it.

Indeed, it was very often the youngest Prewett sibling (if only by twenty minutes or so) whose latest actions and deeds were fodder for conversation amongst the rest of the family. “It’s not your job to, Mols,” he said gently. “Especially when it comes to your idiot brothers. And you’ve done a magnificent job raising your children up as strong, mindful, good people, you must now trust them to move forward and make the right decisions for themselves. Trust in your good tutelage and your love for them: it would not have steered them wrong.”

His own cup was slowly revolved in its saucer by his fingers as he eyed the thin trail of steam rising up from its surface. “Do you think they will? Get involved?”

*****

"They're fighters," she replied, choosing to focus on his question rather than his oh-so-familiar shrug and assessment of her parenting. "If they think it's the right thing to do, they're going to do it." She was both proud of and terrified by that fact. She knew they were smart. She knew they were capable and strong and willing to make these decisions. But the need to protect was so part of her character that she'd been "maternal" like this since her brothers were born, and she was barely three at the time.

She sighed into her tea, looking to it for fortification as only the British knew how to do. "Is it so wrong that I want to keep you all locked up in my pocket to keep you safe? Every time I see my boys exchange words that can be taken as a challenge, my heart stops." She took another gulp of her tea and sighed heavily, keeping the worst of her emotions at bay. "I'm not strong enough for this, but don't tell anyone I said that. I don't want it undermining my authority."

*****