fox_confessor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fox_confessor) wrote2005-08-14 11:10 am
fox_confessor) wrote2005-08-14 11:10 am
Entry tags:
"Awoken" (HP: Molly and Arthur)
Title: Awaken
Author: Dani
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Molly and Arthur
Rating: General
Words: 797
Author Notes: For contralamontre's disturbed sleep challenge, written in under fifty minutes.
Sometimes it happens quite suddenly, like tonight. You're asleep and then you're not and it's hard to tell why. That's how Molly feels as she lies in bed, listening intently for something—some sound—that would tell her that something was wrong. Something she could fix or fight and set all this to rights. But there's nothing, as there often isn't. Just a sudden disturbance of sleep, maybe a memory or a piece of dream, enough of a something to wake her and make it impossible to fall back asleep.
Sometimes it's worry for the older boys, Bill and Charlie, that wakes Molly. Or Percy, whose distance and reserve bothers her more than she would like to admit. Fred and George check in a lot but not having them here—even with their explosions and secret jokes—is hard.
They're all so grown and set on their own paths already, before she's ready. She can still remember the excitement of carrying Bill, of wondering if he was a boy or a girl. If everything would be quite all right and he would turn out as she hoped. He had, of course, and now he's gone from the house, and his brothers following along behind. She can't hold them anymore, or sing them a lullaby. Soothe their worries.
She still has her youngest but then Ginny and Ron are at Hogwarts, and nothing to worry about there, but then things turn up, don't they. Even where it's supposed to be safest. And then there's Harry. Always Harry. Always plenty of people to worry over.
Turning on her side, she can see Arthur sleeping next to her, cuddling close, as he likes to do, his arm thrown over her hip. Sleep has always been his escape, that and his shed of enchanted muggle artifacts. She lets him have at it, not wanting to disturb him. She's wrestled with this before, back during the first dark time.
Molly turns onto her back, dislodging Arthur's hand and he makes a snuffling noise as he rolls over, sighing before she's sure he's asleep again. She envies him, wondering why he doesn't feel that the mattress is too hard and the pillows too soft. The blanket is a bit scratchy too but pushing it away makes her cold, and pulling it close, she discovers a small hole that she worries with her fingers.
Finally, she forces herself still, squeezing her eyes shut and commanding sleep to come. It doesn't, of course, but brings back those snatches of dream that woke her in the first place. They're not particularly scary or disturbing, just painful. Fabian and Gideon, as they were the last time she saw them. Her children never really knew them. They never even got to hold Ron and Ginny. How they would have teased her with the old superstitions about seventh daughters and loved her all the more for the girl.
That's it then. Not really dream or memory, just the possibility of what could have been. What never can be. Of what her children have missed and what might be taken from them now that He Who Must Not Be Named is back. A mother's worries.
"Are you alright, Mollywobbles?"
Molly can't help smiling at the endearment. She brushes a tear away with the edge of the blanket, not wanting Arthur to know she's been crying. In times such as these, she feels she must be strong for her family--can't be seen falling apart. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was, but I was having the most peculiar dream."
"Tell me, then." Her voice is tight, higher than her usual tone. Arthur turns toward her, the bed sagging in the middle under their combined weights, rolling their bodies into one another. They cling a bit, and he doesn't have to ask again if she's alright. He knows she's not, but will be by the morning. He doesn't say anything for a long time, and she begins to think that maybe he's fallen back asleep but then is glad to hear his voice again.
"We were in the Anglia," he begins. "Just the two of us flying over Pinksley Parkington in Northington Abbey, at least, I think that's what it was called. Some strange Muggle name. Anyway, we were flying..."
Molly lets Arthur's voice wash over her. She doesn't hear anything beyond the first sentence or so. It's just Arthur, so close to her, that matters. Her tears are gone, and so are her worries, at least for tonight. She's not alone, and her children aren't alone. She can't imagine what will happen in the future and wants to lay the past to rest, and it almost seems an easy enough task as she lies in Arthur's arms sharing his dream.
Author: Dani
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Molly and Arthur
Rating: General
Words: 797
Author Notes: For contralamontre's disturbed sleep challenge, written in under fifty minutes.
Sometimes it happens quite suddenly, like tonight. You're asleep and then you're not and it's hard to tell why. That's how Molly feels as she lies in bed, listening intently for something—some sound—that would tell her that something was wrong. Something she could fix or fight and set all this to rights. But there's nothing, as there often isn't. Just a sudden disturbance of sleep, maybe a memory or a piece of dream, enough of a something to wake her and make it impossible to fall back asleep.
Sometimes it's worry for the older boys, Bill and Charlie, that wakes Molly. Or Percy, whose distance and reserve bothers her more than she would like to admit. Fred and George check in a lot but not having them here—even with their explosions and secret jokes—is hard.
They're all so grown and set on their own paths already, before she's ready. She can still remember the excitement of carrying Bill, of wondering if he was a boy or a girl. If everything would be quite all right and he would turn out as she hoped. He had, of course, and now he's gone from the house, and his brothers following along behind. She can't hold them anymore, or sing them a lullaby. Soothe their worries.
She still has her youngest but then Ginny and Ron are at Hogwarts, and nothing to worry about there, but then things turn up, don't they. Even where it's supposed to be safest. And then there's Harry. Always Harry. Always plenty of people to worry over.
Turning on her side, she can see Arthur sleeping next to her, cuddling close, as he likes to do, his arm thrown over her hip. Sleep has always been his escape, that and his shed of enchanted muggle artifacts. She lets him have at it, not wanting to disturb him. She's wrestled with this before, back during the first dark time.
Molly turns onto her back, dislodging Arthur's hand and he makes a snuffling noise as he rolls over, sighing before she's sure he's asleep again. She envies him, wondering why he doesn't feel that the mattress is too hard and the pillows too soft. The blanket is a bit scratchy too but pushing it away makes her cold, and pulling it close, she discovers a small hole that she worries with her fingers.
Finally, she forces herself still, squeezing her eyes shut and commanding sleep to come. It doesn't, of course, but brings back those snatches of dream that woke her in the first place. They're not particularly scary or disturbing, just painful. Fabian and Gideon, as they were the last time she saw them. Her children never really knew them. They never even got to hold Ron and Ginny. How they would have teased her with the old superstitions about seventh daughters and loved her all the more for the girl.
That's it then. Not really dream or memory, just the possibility of what could have been. What never can be. Of what her children have missed and what might be taken from them now that He Who Must Not Be Named is back. A mother's worries.
"Are you alright, Mollywobbles?"
Molly can't help smiling at the endearment. She brushes a tear away with the edge of the blanket, not wanting Arthur to know she's been crying. In times such as these, she feels she must be strong for her family--can't be seen falling apart. "I thought you were asleep."
"I was, but I was having the most peculiar dream."
"Tell me, then." Her voice is tight, higher than her usual tone. Arthur turns toward her, the bed sagging in the middle under their combined weights, rolling their bodies into one another. They cling a bit, and he doesn't have to ask again if she's alright. He knows she's not, but will be by the morning. He doesn't say anything for a long time, and she begins to think that maybe he's fallen back asleep but then is glad to hear his voice again.
"We were in the Anglia," he begins. "Just the two of us flying over Pinksley Parkington in Northington Abbey, at least, I think that's what it was called. Some strange Muggle name. Anyway, we were flying..."
Molly lets Arthur's voice wash over her. She doesn't hear anything beyond the first sentence or so. It's just Arthur, so close to her, that matters. Her tears are gone, and so are her worries, at least for tonight. She's not alone, and her children aren't alone. She can't imagine what will happen in the future and wants to lay the past to rest, and it almost seems an easy enough task as she lies in Arthur's arms sharing his dream.