MollyWobbles

Batteries (vi)

Molly Prewett was a Legilimens.

That was the only explanation for the frequency of which she appeared in his head.

A/N: Playlist:

1. "Warriors" by Vitamin String Quartet (**In fic song suggestion).

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Batteries (vi)

Arthur

March 28, 1965

The Prewett Trio thrashed over their fiddles near the Black Lake, like they could coax spring out of the ground.

Arthur watched, twisting a dead blade of highland grass between his thumb and index finger.

"Makes you want to fight someone, doesn't it?" Reggie said. He was flopped over the grass on his stomach, charcoal pencil flashing. The shape of Molly's smile formed under the lines.

Arthur tore his eyes away and shrugged. He didn't feel much like fighting, when he heard this music. He didn't know what he felt like. Jumping, maybe. Flying?

Molly's hair tossed back, and she laughed. It was brilliant to hear her laugh like that, after everything. It felt like the remaining ice on the edges of the water might crack and sunder at the light in the sound.

Molly Prewett was a Legilimens.

That was the only explanation for the frequency of which she appeared in his head.

One moment, he'd be doing a Muggle Studies reading or mucking about with his train set. The next, Molly Prewett's bright smile was suddenly burrowing through his mind, along with the smell of cedar or linen and a feeling like creeping, warm tingles in his ribcage.

It was absolutely maddening.

Couldn't get a thing done.

Not even sleeping. She was there too—holding his hand, combing his hair back from his face, telling him he was so very brave, and Arthur woke up feeling like a git, every time.

But he could hardly help it.

Molly Prewett was—she was alive. Solid. No—no that wasn't quite what he meant. Caring? Bold? Smelled like Heaven.

Gideon and Fabian would skin him alive if they knew he'd thought on the way Molly smelled. They'd understand, though, if they shared a room that smelled like kippers and sweaty Quidditch gear most of the time.

"What'd you think?" Reggie asked, shoving the paper over.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Pretty good."

Stunning, actually.

He'd formed the lines just right, and the picture almost seemed to move and play in the same way that she did.

It was really the music that was putting all this in his head, he decided. Anyone got a bit taken in by fiddling like this, and the rest was just distracted, mindless rubbish that sprang out of thinking on it. Like blades of grass on the wind. Nothing to lose his head over.

Molly spun, jumping and calling for Fabian to hurry up on his part. Fabian complied with a grin.

She really was brilliant, on that fiddle.

Just like Reggie was brilliant with his muggle pencils. Arty shot Reg a grin. "Actually, it's so good, I can't tell which is the real one," he said, holding it up and making like he was comparing the two in confusion.

Reggie snorted and began to pack up.

He left the slip there, in the grass.

Arthur frowned at it.

Well, it'd be a shame to leave it there to get rained on. He stuck it in his pocket, then folded his arms and leaned back against the tree.

No. There was no need to fuss at all.